Fate into Naught
by c'estquatre
Summary: Prequel to Fate/ into Darkness. A series of oneshots about the pasts of each Servant in the 4th Holy Grail War.
1. Fate into Naught

Fate/ into Naught

If Nothing is Everything

Then,

Everything is Nothing

Therefore,

To escape the vicious cycle of infinite and zero

And,

The fate to

Fade into naught;

Cling

Cling, with all your might

onto something…

Anything.

* * *

><p>To bottlingfireflies<p>

-because even a firefly's light isn't eternal.


	2. into Archer: nullification of Nuisances

**into Archer: nullification of Nuisance**

"_Why are you crying? The King of Heroes had asked. Could it be that, only now, you are regretting having  
>taken my side?<em>

_It's not that – He had answered. 'Who would understand you after I die? Who else would march forward  
>by your side? My friend… when I think that you will live on all alone henceforth, I can't help but shed<br>tears…'"_  
><em>- Archer and Enkidu, FateZero_

"Damn-Damn, damndamndamndamn…!"

Two groups of infinite swords clash over the burnt wasteland.

"I did not think I would have to use my sword against a lowlife like…!"

I raise my hand in frustration and desperation. My trusted Ea instantaneously appears behind me, but  
>the instant I am about to grasp it with these burning fingertips…<p>

"I won't let you!" the lowlife faker shouts.

"Gah-!"

He swings the twin imitations which cleanly slice off my arm that tries to reach for the sword-!

"Wha-"

My "gate" stops opening and my arm and Ea fall to the ground, leaving me defenseless.

Did that mongrel just slice my arm off?

Did he just slice the arm of the greatest king in the world, Gilgamesh?

In the moment of my bewilderment, he dashes in falsely confident of his victory.

Not today.

Not today mongrel.

I jump back barely avoiding the twin imitations and from there on I retreat further.

I'll concede it; I concede only one fact to this faker:

"Kuh- you are stronger than me here…!"

Yes, here, only here inside this hideous reality marble you are stronger than me, so I must retreat  
>outside, yet even so, as the words leave my mouth I am utterly disgusted.<p>

"I won't let-"I can hear him screaming; "…You go, dammit-!"

I run like a king, and pull of a Noble Phantasm from behind myself just in case.

He's gaining on me, so as I turn to face him one last time in a kingly fashion…

"-Huh?"

"What-?"

Our voices overlap. I would be fine about this if he was anything other than a faker.

The change happens in an instant.

The light coming from the other side of the lake eliminates the hill of swords because a great magical  
>energy has smashed away the already disappearing Reality Marble.<p>

I can see him lunging at me still clinging to those twin imitations like they are his life, his ideal, so I look  
>at my left arm and the sword I am carrying… it's fine, even without my right arm, even using a third-rate<br>phantasm, so, all I have to do is slash that faking mongrel with this sword to recapture my pride as king.

But after the Reality Marble is blown away…

**DIE**

It appears on my chest.

A black void big enough to swallow a human being.

"Wh-at?"

On me?

I can only watch as my body is being swallowed.

I am completely swallowed by the void appearing on my body.

"Wa-"

I couldn't even finish saying…

"Wait"

-before I fell into naught.

* * *

><p>Suddenly I awaken and-<p>

DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE  
>DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE<br>DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE  
>DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE<br>DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

I snort. Pssh, again? All of this again? Why didn't it understand the first time? I am a king.

All the evils in world?

Nothing, doesn't even compare.

Die?

Is it really just telling me to die?

HA, well, I guess that's all one can hope for from this "omnipotential wish granting machine." I'm not  
>going to die not matter how much you tell me. I'm not going to die like he did; I'm not going to die like<br>anyone else either. Why? I am the king, and certainly I will not let a faker child beat me. But without  
>an anchor keeping me firmly placed I keep falling through the void with my corrupted body starting to<br>break, yet as it does so flashes veil the darkness, flashes of what was once o-so important.

* * *

><p>Far-away form the city where the crystal streams meet to make a lake is my true home.<p>

When I bore of the luxurious foods and golden nectar,

When I bore of the games and the lavish parties,

When I bore of the talk of men and the bodies of women, who both throw themselves at me hoping to  
>gain a higher station,<p>

I take a midnight stroll here to a place where the water meets-the-shore, a sacred mating between the  
>two. But what brings me to the most pleasure is that I own all this. At the peak of my ecstasy, beams of<br>shine glimmer from the heavens making me look up skyward and I let out a snort of disgust with my face  
>tilted towards the moon.<p>

"You're only beautiful because I cannot obtain you." I gasp so spitefully yet with a hint of worship.  
>"Lowlife." I add with a smile.<p>

After all I have no interest in things which I cannot own; there is no point of its existence unless it can be  
>owned by me, Gilgamesh, king of kings, which is the reason<p>

-as soon as I arrive home I will order its death.

I stare at it in pure loathing, pure loathing, for the first time in my life I would rather kill than own it. But  
>I cannot tell what it, the person sitting on my intended throne, is. To me it looks like a she but to a<br>woman I am sure it will look like a he, surely a beauty which transcends gender. Its silvery, long hair  
>shimmers like a wolf's pelt and my eyes seethe with envy. The hair's natural sheen makes my ermine<br>cloak look like rags and leavings. The person's innocent child-like face with diamond irises look towards  
>the moon and its throat lets out a throaty, wild howl that shivers the winds which in turn sweeps at its<br>sleeveless gown. Its slender, bare arms then revel in the moonlight, and then it finally notices my  
>presence and slowly turns and looks at me; its bare feet now stand upright on the earth as they should.<br>It looks at me not as a mongrel it is but as a proud world-wise wolf with steel grey eyes. Its silver purity  
>is an insult to my own golden eyes. It looks at me with the basic curiosity of an animal, all innocent and<br>without ulterior motive, and I look at it with all the greed in the world in my eyes. Yes, I want to deny its  
>existence. We can never exist together, we are fundamentally different.<p>

You are mad.

I am king.

You are soil.

I am man.

You have nothing.

I have everything.

I tear my eyes away from it and leave; tomorrow death will tame that beast.

"Mongrel," I murmur furiously under my breath.

It was a meeting that last lasted forty-five seconds and the boring conclusion I came to was execution,  
>however, however unbeknownst to me, my council decided not to waste a squadron to kill a single<br>humans to kill that thing that would earn it no glory, instead, as it told me later on in its life, the council  
>left it in the hands of the local priestess. It also told me all the priestess did was cast some warding<br>spells and "civilized him." Of this was not enough to kill or tame a thing made by the gods, but enough to make  
>unrecognizable to the animals. Eventually it found its way to King Gilgamesh, the noble king who<br>decided to do this to it. Tenacious little mongrel wasn't it; it clearly wanted to see the one that caused it  
>so much harm.<p>

* * *

><p>Hah, I started to chuckle in madness while sinking. I look down into the naught and note that I still have<br>quite a way to go before I hit to "bottom." So in one of my rare bouts of benevolent fickleness I shift  
>gears and wonder about that tomboy king of knights for second. Hmm, well she certainly was beautiful,<br>but I have had goddess' prostrate themselves to me, so her beauty wasn't the defining point. Well as a  
>warrior she is certainly one of the greatest, however I have struck down many who have greater brute<br>strength and technique. My mind reverts to my glorious victory over that mad beast of a giant. I did not  
>even let him scratch me, and so it cannot be because of strength. So what is left is what attracted me<br>to that king of knights so much…

Ahhh, I see, I see, all of it, all is a-

* * *

><p>When I am in the room all the women throw themselves at me, it's a burden I must carry like and as a<br>king. Many times I tire of it, I bore of it, but my legislature make ridiculous rules like "rights of first  
>night," to satisfy these maidens. It's true, even at wedding when a woman is getting married she only<br>has eyes for me, though the man she is marrying cannot compare to my grandeur… she should at least  
>look at him, just until they are married then she can look at me all she wants. However this one is just,<br>throwing herself at me, look at her grabbing my armor staining it with the painted oils of her hands,  
>urgh, disgusting. I grab her wrist and just look; look at the disgusted faces of the wedding guests… Ha<br>you really are a dirty woman. I have never seen you in my life, I doubt I will ever see you again, but really,  
>you are just like any other woman, just after me to become queen. Really the lengths that women will<br>go to, because I see, I see you seduced that man, that lowlife over there because you had no hope of  
>seducing me. However you wanted me you burned for me, dirty woman, so much that you married him<br>just so you could have this wedding feast where you'd invite me, then, then you in all your "splendor"  
>and "radiance" would obviously catch my eye. Really did you plan all that out? Really do you think you<br>were the first woman to think of that? Lowlife. I pull the woman close to me and my nostrils flare at her  
>stench and I whisper in her ear:<p>

"Do not try to get above your station, mongrel." My seething cold voice invades her thick skull and she  
>crumples to the ground and as I turn to offer my condolences to the husband…<p>

"UNHAND HER NOW!" The doors are thrown open by a violent voice.

I turn around and reply "Lowlife, I have not laid a finger on her."

And there it was a glimmering sliver in the sunlight; there you were in your one piece dress, robe  
>costume, whatever it was. You silver majesty just shining for all to see and you dash at me with eyes that<br>say you want to kill me.

You know you're arrogant, very arrogant. To think that you could kill me is to be the very essences of  
>arrogance itself. Because you can't, you know you can't even if you are it; you simply can't because you<br>are…

-its hands dig into mine and we fall down grappling, its strong, it has to be after all I know it is one of the  
>creations of the gods. We tumble and fall trying to gouge the limbs of each other. Chairs, tables and the<br>walls shake and crack and the sheer force of our battle is enough to make the gods shudder, so these  
>mortals all faint in disbelief. Further and further we wrestle with no one gaining a clear advantage over<br>the other one. Its hands try to punish my face, while my hand goes to its heart and chest trying to push it  
>away from my body then…<p>

"Get away from me." The flame in my sparkling gold eyes goes cold. "Get away from me."

With all my strength I smash it against a wall while repeating "Get away from me," while flexing my  
>hand.<p>

Disgusting, that was absolutely disgusting, the feel of a mongrel's skin under my hands. It's so disgusting  
>that I have to eradicate it myself this time. I take out a dark red key from my armor and open the lock to<br>my treasury and…

-shoot a hundred swords at its defenseless body.

It is dead I can guarantee it. No one has survived this attack ever before. Think about it, all the weapons  
>in the king's treasury against you, you a single person without any weapons, you just standing there.<br>Soon you will be nothing more than a splatter which I will then get my servants to clean. Hah, you are  
>indeed a mongrel, and indeed you are dead.<p>

-Now.

The swords rain all over the room, it's fine because during our fight all the guests were removed. Yes,  
>indeed I am the epitome of benevolent, I am a king, a king should look after his subjects are all, if they<br>fawn over him of course, which is the reason why it will die today. But, it doesn't matter if it fawns over  
>me; we are fundamentally different, so good…<p>

A voice mumbles, mumbles but I can clearly hear it-

"Trace-On,"

And then a gigantic explosion that rocks the room itself…

Stones melt as if turning into brimstone.

My treasury is hurled across the room stabbing into both floor and wall, and in the center of the room I  
>notice a blade it looks exactly the same as the "A" rank blade I flung in the midst of all the third-rates,<br>however it is not mine, and it is… melting.

"You bro…"

"Broken Phantasm" it replies with such a flat voice.

"The swords you throw are fakes." I yell in an accusing voice.

It looks at me beguiled by my words, "Swords? Swords you say? Like how if a sword is used as an  
>arrow… it is an arrow. If a sword, even a fake sword, is thrown… it becomes a spear."<p>

I quickly snap my fingers; I know if I do not kill it now… it will definitely kill me, after all it has the ability to  
>do so.<p>

Swords rain down the sky, each missile as deadly as the last, each exhibiting a curse that surpasses  
>humans. Each of these swords can kill in one strike. Yet-<p>

"Trace-on."

Copies meet my treasury and each sword is deflected. I admit those swords are good. I cannot tell  
>which are mine and which are the copies, but it still remains they are copies, they are fakes they-<p>

did I actually say that out loud?

"Fakes. Hmm yes, I like that name, I am a Faker, and the same way I am faking that I am human. Yes I am  
>a Faker, so what? You are a king consumed by greed and self-righteousness and every other word that<br>starts with self. I am a Faker yet it does not matte-,"

I cut of its long monologue because only I, as the king, can be the one to have such long monologues.

"These are the king's treasures; only the king is allowed to hold these treasures. Cur." I put this beast in  
>its place. "A child will never beat the parent, very much the same the copy will never beat the original!"<p>

A spark of fight in its eyes turns into blaze and its silver eyes momentarily pierce my golden ones just  
>like that night so long ago, this time it is after a challenge a challenge that it puts into words…<p>

"Who says so? Who says an imitation cannot defeat the original?

-Roll out. Bullet clear."

Copies of all the swords in the room appear behind it. There are possibly over a thousand piled into the  
>air behind it just like my gate. Hah, for the first time in my life I feel… I feel a bit of awe, so that's what<br>my treasury looks like piled into the sky. Among this ugly wreckage and splattered wedding feast, the  
>only beautiful thing is-<p>

I smile inwardly, just tiny smile, I'm no serious and for the first time I think it may be fun keeping it alive  
>just a bit longer, fun if it can survive THIS RAIN OF SWORDS!<p>

With the snap of my wrist and fingers the gate expands and doubles the number of weapons and shoots.  
>It had no time, no time to replicate any of the new ones and I had just doubled the weapons shooting<br>out. Two thousand originals take on one thousand fakes, which one will win? And then they fly.

"-Freeze out, sword bullet full open!"

A shout of defiance comes from the dead dog. Yes, it's dead no matter what it will die, even if it breaks  
>all its phantasms it will still die. Even if it<p>

-it breaks the phantasms again and again without any doubt of victory and fear of death in its mind and  
>prepares a spear in its right hand. Holding it level to its shoulder it lets it fly like a javelin. Its course is<br>straight at me, it would rather die with me than to let itself be skewered. Tenacious, tenacious indeed,  
>so I intercept that spear with a number of blades yet… its flight holds true, so true that when I put my<br>hand into my side in disbelief I can see my blood staining my hand.

A rush of blood fills my head and silently I walk to the figure crucified with my weapons and straddled it  
>speechlessly. With my eyes hidden by my disheveled hair I started it down however, all I could see was-<p>

FEAR

-Defiance.

That is why my hand is raised about to plunge into its chest and tear out its heart.

"I want to kill you." My admission rings through the golden covered hall.

"But you won't," the surprisingly melodic and soft voice is saturated with menace.

I may have told myself that I wouldn't kill it if it survived my shower of swords but I enter a state of rage  
>and my hand goes down.<p>

"Because I'll kill you first." The swift un-fearful reply stops my hand in its tracks and when I turn  
>around…<p>

A sword is right above with trembling poised to fall and gut me.

I laugh, I lose it and laugh, I laugh so much that even it looks at me suspiciously. Oh you are great; you  
>may even be the best. You, You, You.<p>

"Girl, you deny your sex in favor of another; indeed you can only be called a man, a wild man at THAT!"

The girl's face tints red and the sword drops aimed at my face.

Oh you are the best, ENKIDU!

* * *

><p>Hmmm yes, I can see it now. Enkidu, that girl we all called "he," and Saber, that "king" who was a she.<br>They are similar in one regard only, the have defied me and survived. I stop; well I can't stop drifting  
>through to the Grail, I merely stop my mind for a second, and wonder that maybe I like women who defy<br>me? Could it be possible? But Enkidu, he was my constant companion from then on. We traveled the  
>world together, we were brothers, well as brotherly as a man and woman can get. I will definitely say<br>those were the greatest days of my life, greatest because all my days are great. They are great because  
>they are mine.<p>

I drift and drift, the sensation is calling after one gets through the various voices drilling into his mind.  
>It's okay because I have memories to keep me company which is pathetic. Me, Gilgamesh, king of heroes<br>reduced to this. Beaten by a ridiculous boy and sucked into the very grail he tried to obtain, this is  
>definitely a humiliating situation, a situation which reminds me of that time, that time in the cedar<br>forest…

* * *

><p>"How does it work?" I ask while walking down the grassy hill with the clouds piling up above us.<p>

"Hm?" His diamond eyes regard me slowly and curiously. "Tracing?"

"Yes, after all I spent a very long time obtaining every treasure in the world, yet you can produce them  
>almost in a second, of course they are fake but…"<p>

"Really Gilgamesh, concern for fakes is unbecoming for you." He teased me, any other mortal would die.

"Quiet and explain." I sullenly try to control the conversation which is getting out of hand.

"I was created to be your punishment, you know that right?" He questions me cautiously.

I laugh at his cautiousness "Of course, like you can punish me."

"I am able to grasp the structures of weapons easily; I can form a blueprint in my mind."

"So when you see my weapons…" I start to understand

"I understand everything about them; it only takes a second then I make the sword. My memory isn't good  
>enough so I can only project the weapon that is right in front of me though… so essentially right now…" he<br>stops and trails off.

"You can't make weapons you've seen you can only make weapons you see right?" I ask.

He gapes at me like the lowlife he really is and points left.

A sea of trees, a raging sea of cedar trees just standing there in the middle of the hill.

"Hey Gilgy." Enkidu calls

"Never-ever called me Gilgy."

"Hey Gilgy, did you say that we needed trees and wood for Uruk?"

"Don't call me…"

I stare, I know this is blasphemy against the gods but all I can do is stare. We just stand there are stare,  
>then I realize that the gods are just mongrels so we head in this forest of cedar.<p>

* * *

><p>The birds chirp loudly inside as if singing the song of a different world, a world where the sky is trees and<br>the ground is roots. Sounds echo through this crevice of trees that seemly extends into the oblivion. So  
>what are we doing here? A place this holy must have a guardian, so to claim this forest as my own we<br>must slay or subdue or dominate or do something to this guardian. Not sure yet, but I do know that it is  
>a mongrel, a mongrel of gods and humans therefore it deserves to be slayed. Enkidu walks pleasantly by my<br>side, he grew up in a forest like this world the wild creatures by his side, and I took her away from all  
>that. I feel a little guilty, not about taking his life away but having him follow me wherever I want. I<br>shouldn't feel guilty after all I am the king, and everyone does what the king says; however when I asked  
>him –already anomalous behavior- she said he wanted to go so it would be okay. That makes me a little<br>happy, maybe as happy as I am when I obtain something. A fuzzy feeling, not warm though.

Slowly, slowly pausing at every animal so Enkidu can try to communicate and fail, we reach the center of  
>the forest. I raise an eyebrow. A domain of the gods, this junk heap, you must be kidding. Seriously sure<br>there may be a serenity with the waterfall and the glowing plants and the what-nots of this place. But  
>does it compare? No, it doesn't even compare to the place that I saw Enkidu for the first time. This place<br>is not beautiful; it's the exact opposite of the moon. It would be beautiful, yet the gods went forth and  
>defiled it. I laugh and Enkidu looks at me worriedly. The sheer irony, isn't it so funny, after defiling this<br>place the gods set a guard to protect their corruption. Really? Are the gods so blind or are they so full of  
>themselves they can no longer determine what is beautiful and what is not. If so let them know this;<br>everything I own is beautiful, everything I want to own is beautiful, everything else is worthless. That is  
>the truth, that is the crux of the world, and because I want those trees I eagerly dash at the guardian of<br>this "shrine."

With my gilded key I instantly open up the gate to the treasury and let them fly. Out they pour, all the  
>weapons of the world. A frozen blade from the icy reaches that stands above the world, a sword of wind from<br>the ever-distant canyons of the west, a sword capable to cutting through anything and everything,  
>an eastern bamboo claw that can tarnish any metal, noble weapons from around the globe all come out<br>with the duty the obliterate its lowlife life and

-they could not penetrate its hide, not even the sword that was said to cut through anything. What a  
>worthless waste of time that was. With one gigantic furry hand it bashed aside all the weapons and all it took<br>was a gigantic roar from its lion head to make the animals, just a moment ago so lively, scatter into the  
>wind.<p>

Terror, its hide writes terror onto a man's soul and the scream is the activation. Then what are so many  
>earthly coloured hides filled with unearthly aura doing behind it just beyond that crystalline stream? Aha,<br>terror, a weapon that strikes not the body, not the soul, but the mind. Truly a weapon for the beast of  
>gods. Terror, the word is savored in my mouth. I remember my father telling me that there are three<br>conditions to terrify someone: one, the monster can't speak; two, the monster has to be unidentifiable;  
>three, it's meaningless if the monster can die. Monster, you are a poor excuse for a monster: you spoke<br>and you were identified. Terror? You don't even know the meaning of that word which is why you must  
>use those hides to write and amplify the concept onto our souls; after all, it's not like you could even<br>terrorize a bird, much less the king. As for dying… you we defected from birth because any creature that  
>has any sense knows-<p>

I scream the answer out with all my might and scorn

"IF YOU'RE GOING TO KILL, DO IT IN ONE SHOT!"

Enkidu came blazing pass his hand empty but then as he passed me I could hear the muttering of…

"Trace-on,"

In his hand appeared the exact copy of the sword which could cut anything.

"Idiot- that doesn't work!" I tried to warn him. "You wasted my provocation, fool!"

"-Beginning synchronization

Analyzing composite materials

Reinforcing composite materials

All processes complete."

He leaps in the air ready to strike at the monsters face and I scream.

"YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT! THAT'S HUMBABA, HIS FACE IS DEATH."

He doesn't listen to me, the mongrel. He strikes at the face of Humababa but does not leave a dent even  
>if the beast is pushed back a step or two.<p>

Enkidu looks at the blade as it shatters due to the impact.

"Pshh, this is all the blade that will cut the Gordius Knot can do?"

"Enkidu," I call harshly "Why are you alive?"

"Humbaba's stare only kills humans, since that's what he was sent to guard this place from. I am  
>obviously not a human, and you are only part human so his stare may pain you."<p>

"Hah," I laugh like the sovereign I am "Worried, Enkidu? This mongrel cannot even touch me."

"I hope that is so." Says Enkidu solemnly as he jumps out the rushing beast's way.

Humbaba the terrible, a giant raised by Uta, the sun. Enlil must have assigned him here to destroy all  
>humans that came. Ironic though since these gods are made from the desires and hopes of mankind, yet<br>they believe themselves superior to humans who actually created them. Doesn't matter, what's  
>important right now is that I want those cedar trees, so I pull out a hammer I obtained in a tropical<br>jungle somewhere north-east of here and strike that pathetic excuse of a monster. This hammer is a one  
>shot weapon that does fixed damage, so it seems I am wasting it on a mongrel like you, hound.<p>

A swing and a gigantic explosion that rocks the sky and clouds the earth yet the beast only retreats one  
>step. Enkidu comes jumping in with the exact same weapon and<p>

-is effortlessly flung a side and breaks a few trees that are in her flight-path.

Useless, Enkidu. That was absolutely useless.

Taking advantage of the beast's indecision I thread underneath its legs and take out a scythe that can  
>impale an angel and as I swing it in a circle until I am able mutilate one of the beast's legs.<p>

The creature roars in pain and stamps its other foot and I am caught in the shock-wave.

Thrown out, I land in the dust.

I do not belong here I am a king.

I do not belong in his dust I am a king.

I am a king so I have to act like a king.

I open the gate and let the weapons fly again and again even if they are barely any use because this  
>beast is regenerating faster than I can kill it. With a roar of rage I take out a sickle, a sickle that will<br>refract his longevity and… get thrown back onto the ground.

ARGGGGGH

I'll kill it.

I definitely kill it.

Even if my treasury is not working, I'll crush it, I'll crush it.

I'LL-!

-It's going to crush me even if I am a king or not.

The fist comes down like thunder, yet all I can hear is my maniacal laughing and the words:

"Trace-on!"

Enkidu jumps and aims to cut its arm off with the very sickle that was just in my hand.

The sound of meat, tendons, then bones, and I am showered in the blood of the "thing" that almost  
>killed me and then the faker's fake shatters as if never should have belong in the world.<p>

"Damn, the illusion was too weak, the assumption of the basic composition of the weapon was too  
>brittle as well, but it saved you, Gilgy." Enkidu chides herself while also having a go at me.<p>

"Trace-on,"

She then turns facing the beast head-on and I can hear a rush from his multitude of magic circuits.

"So I'll split it into eight parts

Judging the concept of creation,

hypothesizing the basic structure,

duplicating the composition material,

imitating the skill of its making,

sympathizing with the experience of growth,

reproducing the accumulated years,

excelling every manufacturing process,

Now, I bind the illusion and make it into a sword!

But that's not enough, that's not nearly enough, it'll shatter since this sickle is not that strong of weapon  
>because its power lies in its concept, I give it about a A-, so I'll have to-<p>

Begin synchronization,

Analyze base core,

Reinforcing the base material,

Finally,

All projecting processes complete – The Severing of Vitality."

The beast blots out the sun, that is how close it is but Enkidu is not scared. She just stares him down  
>waiting, waiting for the time to strike and when that eternity finally arrives she jumps like a wolf<br>pouncing on its prey and without a struggle

-the monster is beheaded as if such an action is normal for the blade.

While still in air she murmurs "So this is the blade that will slay the Gorgon…"

-and he falls into my arms.

We tumble from the shock of her fall and slowly I notice I am on top of her. With my golden eyes, I look  
>into his silver ones once again and-<p>

"Marry me." I state it my intention to her as it was a fact.

She looks at me with no readable emotion and then finally. "Only if you marry me first."

Her nature scented hand draws my face close and…

* * *

><p>Yes, that was a very dumb decision to take my own friend as my wife. Of course, she agreed I mean what<br>sort of woman would she be if she wouldn't agree to marry me? Like I said before women stage a  
>wedding to actually get a chance to throw themselves at me, and even if she's not the most beautiful<br>woman I've met… I'm fond of her. I still am today. I am probably of fond of Saber because they are alike.  
>Pathetic isn't it. I lost, I lost to the boy and this is all I have left, yes I know I'm done, even if I am the king<br>there is nothing I can do about this situation. Give up and Die that's what the grail is telling me to do,  
>and you know, maybe I just might do it. It's been tiring; these ten years alive have been much more<br>tiring than the eon when I truly lived. It's been more fun as well when I think about it. That self-pronounced  
>conqueror king and that boy, Kotomine, Saber, that Faker, and this boy, all so interesting.<br>Argh, I must be getting old being nostalgic like an old man, I am the King, the king that even denied a  
>goddess so…<p>

* * *

><p>"Lay with me." she commands; her voice ripe and sensuous dripping with forbidden promises and<br>unending delights that awaited he who agreed.

"Sorry Lady, I got a wife and he's the type that'll kill me if I sleep with you." I say pointing to Enkidu.

Enkidu nods "I really will." He confirms like it is nothing.

"You dare deny me, Ishtar, goddess of fertility? Ruler of the Underworld." She can barely suppress her  
>outrage and anger. As a goddess she's never been denied anything before and if she has been denied it<br>she can un-deny it; however…

"Look, Lady, you're pretty and all but I'm the King, I own everything, and what are you? A lump of devil.  
>You are a goddess; you don't understand humans because you are a goddess. Remember how you loved<br>the lion? Remember how you loved a shepherd? That's right; you don't because you're a goddess. It  
>doesn't matter how bad it is for the other party, since you are made from hopes and desires you simply<br>don't care. I'd rather have a bride made from mud and soil than you." My outburst cannot be contained.

Enkidu looks at me so flatly that it hurts. "I don't know whether to take that as a complement or an  
>insult; however, we will be talking about this later…honey…"<p>

First time that's she's call me that and it sounds not good, but right now I am more worried about the  
>furious, literally steaming goddess standing in the middle of my room and how that cannot be good for<br>the precious rugs I climbed mountains for.

"-" She opens her mouth but is cut off by

"So Gilgy, want to get some wine?" Surprisingly Enkidu sounds very nonchalant and I am caught in her  
>pace.<p>

"Don't call me Gilgy…" My gritted teeth say…

And Ishtar explodes; she literally explodes and is gone.

"Good riddance," says Enkidu feigning the dusting of his hands. She then smiles so sweetly that it hurts  
>and: "Now to our talk…" a frightening gesture motions me to sit down. I am unable to escape.<p>

I am the king, I'm not scared of a "talk" but I can't admire how Enkidu disposed of a goddess like that.  
>He acted like Ishtar didn't even exist. I am sure a goddess that doesn't care about humans can't stand<br>being ignored by the humans she is supposed to ignore. So I grin and interrupt Enkidu's scolding:

"What about that wine?"

He turns red and scolds me some more.

* * *

><p>When one looks back on this life those are the most fleeting yet the most eternal memories so I flash<br>through those times full of quests, adventure, and comradely to reach the end. I do so because I am also  
>reaching my end. I can feel it, all the evils of the world may not kill me, but I can be swallowed up and<br>returned to that throne, so right now…

* * *

><p>"Left" she screams at me as he aims for the neck, but even Enkidu's iron grasp is loosened when the Bull<br>of Heaven roars.

I furrow my brow in annoyance because she's laughing, that know-nothing, do-nothing goddess is  
>laughing at us. And what outrages me the most is that… she's on one of my towers. Her dusk coloured<br>hair is shimmering on my golden spires that…

I stop regarding the bull, I am too full of rage and send a phantasm flying at her instead, but it simply  
>goes through her cowardly incorporeal body. Snorting and gritting my teeth like the king I am, I calm<br>myself down and dash again at the bull and then look down.

It only was an instant yet the bull's ivory horns crushed my golden armor. The Humbaba did not  
>compare this creature; this creature which lays sieges and famines; this creature which is considered a<br>holy beast that even the bridle which could tame any creature could not tame. This Bull of Heaven is a  
>true monster.<p>

Enkidu pulls its tail to get it away from me allowing me to strip off the damaged armor and take out **that**  
>weapon…<p>

The moment it comes out of the gate Enkidu's eyes are agape and…

"~Ea-Spin~"

This is my weapon, the only weapon that is truly mine. I didn't want to use it however it seems I have to  
>use it. Its rock rotors start spinning as if drilling the air itself. This is weapon that has no name therefore I<br>call it Ea, it is death and…

"DON'T YOU DARE USE IT GILGAMESH-!" This is the first time I've him so desperate. "Gilgamesh I am  
>unable to analyze that weapon but I know, I know if you use it… you'll definitely regret it so please:<br>stop." This is the first time I have heard her beg like this

-so I fire like a king should.

Of course I wouldn't fire if Enkidu was going to be hit, even a person like him would die instantly after  
>being hit by Ea. I fired when the bull charged at me so that his whole body would take the force of the blast, the<br>wind, the drilling. Yes, this raw power, this is the sword which cuts open the world. Too bad it was made  
>before the concept of a "sword" was invented.<p>

The bull is the sacrifice that shields Enkidu; the bull twists and turns ways that any living creature  
>shouldn't, so obviously sinew and inchor splatter all over my naked chest and I am bathed in the innards<br>of a god. I let my mouth open savoring the blood in the air and laugh. I laugh insanely until I see a hand  
>across my face.<p>

-Slap

She slapped me.

He slapped me.

For the first time in my life I have had violence committed against this pristine body of mine.

I WILL KILL YOU.

Right now I will forget the fact that she is my wife and I will kill him.

My hand goes for the heart and…

It stops.

Why did it stop?

Not because I loved him but

-she was already had collapsed onto the ground.

* * *

><p>That was the end wasn't it? That was the end of everything. Ishtar couldn't get her revenge so she left,<br>begging her fellow gods to kill one of us. Shamash protected me, and there was no one to protect her.  
>Not even I could protect her and I am the king. That week was when I found exactly how powerless I<br>really was. It really is a boring story about a king and his friend. Really boring and the ending is how is  
>sounds.<p>

The darkness seeps into my bones and I can see the end which should not exist. Yes there seems to be  
>an end in this infinity. Now I think about it infinity's just a different way to say naught. That explains why<br>I never wanted infinity; it was the same as having nothing…I only wanted everything… but that also  
>turned out to be…<p>

* * *

><p>I sit beside the bed. The figure that is in the covers is so small, so small. He's sweating profusely and<br>about to die; after all things burn the brightest when they are about to die. So his strong voice conveyed  
>his final words to me:<p>

"Don't drink too much."

"I won't."

"Don't stay out too late."

"I won't."

"Remember the monthly sacrifices to the gods."

"I will."

"Remember me."

"Of course."

They are reduced to the pitiful requests of a wife about to die.

The woman laughs a genuine smile:

"I'm sorry," he says "if I sound like I'm scolding you or something like that, but it was really fun with  
>you…"<p>

I cannot stand him being in this state and cut her off.

"You're a foolish and ridiculous fellow whom, despite having a body made of mud and soil, set your  
>heart to stand shoulder to shoulder with the gods." I finally say the words I wanted to say since we met.<p>

Those are my true feelings; the reason why I spared you. I wanted to see if you could do it. I really  
>believed in you; however, this is your end, now isn't it? This is the last time I'll see you. My mind floats<br>back to the time I wanted to kill you and your silver eyes which reflected my own red ones. Clip the  
>bud before it blooms, was that it? I just couldn't stand you and because I couldn't stand you…I think…I…<p>

Weakly he lifts his arm and strokes my face, the face he slapped just a week ago, and he starts to cry hot,  
>painless, sympathy tears, tears for the one that cannot cry.<p>

"Why are you crying?" I ask. "Could it be that, only now, you are regretting having taken my side?"

"It's not that-"he answered, "Who would understand you after I die? Who else would march forward by  
>your side? My friend… when I think that you will live on all alone henceforth, I can't help but shed<br>tears…"

And then I saw it. I saw the man taking his last breath and I realized the way this man, who was human,  
>but wanted to surpass humanity, had lived, was even more precious and more brilliant than all the<br>treasures I had collected.

"You fool who stretch your hand towards realms not of men… There is only one person in heaven or  
>earth who's worthy of appreciating your destruction and this is none other than I, Gilgamesh. Sink into<br>my embrace, oh you glorious and illusionary man. That is my decision."

I took him in my arms, my wife, my friend, my something that destroyed the cycle of everything and  
>nothing, and finally I noticed around her, wound so loosely, was the very chain the priestess used to bind her<br>so long ago. I could feel it. I could feel his prana. I could feel her prana. It was such a meager amount collected  
>into this chain. This was her final gift to me. It was projection of the chain that once bound her,<br>probably the last thing she thought of before she drew her last breath, reinforced with all her hopes and  
>wishes… Yes, this is a fitting weapon for a fitting massacre.<p>

* * *

><p>I step outside into the light to face the goddess laughing hysterically:<p>

"She did kill a beast of the gods, she paid for that."

I walk past her because such a lowlife should not die by my hand and I approach for the second time  
>the Bull of Heaven.<p>

"Resurrection magic" I spit out.

It looks the same as the first time we destroyed it, it's horns erect and proud, its black coat as shiny and  
>full as a sheep's, and its eyes filled with quiet resignation.<p>

"Guglanna, sorry, but this will be the last time." I reassure it.

"Just face me, boy…" His hopelessness and helplessness touches even me.

But…

"ADDRESS ME AS KING, YOU MONGREL." I scream in absolute blind rage as I completely open the Gates  
>of Babylon.<p>

The Bull is seemingly bathed in a multitude number of weapons yet no damage is done so it charges  
>head first into the tempest of infinite swords.<p>

I reach into the Gate for my most precious treasure reminding myself-

First the legs.

Then the hauches.

Take the horns.

Remember the tail.

Two is needed to bind the stomach.

And now it cannot move.

So I aim and…

-cast its true name to actualize the phantasm that will completely bind this true monster.

"ENKIDU!"

Bursting out of the gate, the chains grip onto a Bull that can no longer move because the concept of  
>"escape" no longer exists when you are divine and are chained by Enkidu. The final gift she left me. The<br>final gift he left me. The gift of a human who so desperately wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with the gods  
>is now a chain that allows me to reign over the gods themselves. Now hear my name and fear!<p>

I walk up to the Bull, each step slow and deliberate, then, taking the sickle she once called Harpe,

-I behead the beast of eternity with a weapon that changes eternity to mortality.

* * *

><p>My hand touches something that is metallic yet gentle, cold, yet fuzzy. So I realize my hand doesn't touch<br>a thing it touches an emotion. It grabs that emotion without the need to ponder. Yes, you never left me  
>did you? You never could. Because in my hand right now is Enkidu, the final gift she left me. This is his<br>wish. This is her wish to allow for me survival at whatever cost. It is the reason, so pure it makes everything  
>else meaningless, why on his final breath my wife turned herself into a mystery. It's not as strong as Ea,<br>it's not even as strong as that golden sword of promised victory which contains all the hopes and  
>dreams of humanity because it only contains the hopes and dreams of one person, one person, but<br>that's enough. That's definitely enough because as long as I have one person, I won't fall into naught. I won't fall  
>into infinity either. As long as I have one person, I definitely won't lose to that boy who tries to save<br>everyone. I couldn't even save one person; I couldn't save the person I loved. I couldn't save that person  
>because<p>

-it saved me.

It saved me before I saved it therefore…

One last cast, one last cast of this fateful die. I'll roll and find out the result-

With my body in tatters,

With my right arm gone,

With it in my heart,

I cast the chain through the void hoping for an anchor and

-cast the name that makes this chain in a mystery with

-the name of the only person I ever held dear.


	3. into Lancer: admonished Amor

**into Lancer: admonished Amor**

"_The weight of a geis which would test his honor, and the path of a loyal subject which he followed- as he  
>thought, which one was more precious? No matter how many times he asked or struggled with himself,<br>he did not arrive at an answer._

_That's why the thing which spurred him had to be a reason without any relation whatsoever with his pride. _

_The hero and the princess grasped hands, and together, turned away from the splendor of their futures."_

-Lancer, Fate/Zero

"What part of me?" I ask her who has tears in her eyes.

She turns away from me trying no longer to meet my gaze. She faces a tree and slowly the words tumble  
>out of her mouth.<p>

"I don't know."

Those were the words I never wanted to hear because…

I know it's the truth.

You never loved me did you? It's all because of this cursed love spot. Your feelings, your emotions have  
>no more worth, so uncharacteristically I let my weapons drop and slouch down. I smile grimly and admit<br>my fears.

"Yes, I knew it. I knew that."

But I couldn't accept it. I had betrayed my lord all for her and now I can hear them, my former  
>comrades and their voices getting closer and closer until the thumping of their march rolls over my ears<br>and…

She turns and wraps her arms around my head. Resting softly with her heart separated from my head by  
>a layer of skin I try to believe in the illusion we so desperately fought for.<p>

Then her mouth slowly moves and she breathes through my ear.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why but…" and I can no longer hear the rest.

I let my mind wander through the battles, the dangers that have occurred, that I have fought for and  
>have almost died for.<p>

And for the first time since starting this endeavor I question my motive. Why did I decide to run away  
>like this? Was such an action truly chivalrous? But even as I struggle with an answer I do not regret it. I<br>cannot regret my actions even if I wa…

"I don't know why but I know that…I love you."

These words wash everything that matters away and replace everything that mattered. Even if I cannot  
>do the same, I want to protect that emotion of hers, so I stand with lances which were dropped so pathetically in<br>hand to face the storm that is arriving.

"I will protect you." I say in resignation and turn and turn to face the fianna.

I never did, did, I never… there is no emotion, there never was anything, naught.

"I... love... you." she says in a crushed farewell and again those pure words wash everything away.

* * *

><p>"I love you," her words wash everything away, "so please in exchange for my love, accept the geis.<br>Milord, no matter how, annul this abominable marriage. Please take me away...to the ends of the  
>earth!"<p>

There is no shame in her eyes. It doesn't matter to her that she's at her pre-wedding feast, and even if it  
>does to me the evil geis pulled over me forces me to comply. I look around this redwood hall and do not<br>understand why this princess would decide to run away with me. Milord may be old but he is one of the  
>greatest warriors that ever existed in addition to this lavish place and all these riches and splendors so<br>why would she…

We run out of the feasting hall, she looks at my dumbfounded face and says:

"The draught I brewed is wearing off milord; we only have a few hours to make our escape."

I turn my gaze on her and regard the princess many call fairest in the land for the first time. I've  
>seen her before but not this close. She's beautiful; however, it is not her silky chestnut hair, nor her<br>homely light grey eyes, it's not her slender frame, nor her delicate figure. She turns to regard me in  
>turn then looks back and I can conclude that it's her vulnerability. Every man dies to that, it's the need to<br>protect her as if she's some fragile crystal; it's something that is carelessly nurtured into her and is  
>unbeknownst to her consciousness and it disgusts me; it disgusts me because I'll learn why I am disgusted<br>very soon.

* * *

><p>She really did drug everyone, this princess did; she's pretty amazing at that. We made it out of that citadel<br>without being talked to even once and eventually one mile later:

"Milord, I am weary, we have made quite a way so surely we can set up camp for a night?"

I hit my face with my palm. Indeed the fianna was right, never escape with a princess because she'll yap  
>and cry all the way all day. A princess is only useful for her throne they all said. I try to regard her with<br>kindly eyes and answer back:

"Sorry your highness, that's less than half a day's march to arrive at this place, we must try to enter the  
>woods." I point to the thick forest dark and gloomy quite a ways away.<p>

Her eyes droop down, her face seems so downcast like a child, unbefitting of a woman of her nineteenth  
>year. She obviously wants to say something but her upbringing does not allow it. There's a battle inside<br>of her, her training battling her wants. She probably wants to rest but cannot disobey her "lord" and she  
>finally whispers a word:<p>

"Grainne," it's a soft sweet voice like a cake with too much sugar.

Unlikely, she says her name.

"Eh?"

I don't really get it. What does she want?

"Call…me… Grainne."

I give her a look to make sure, and yes, she is completely enamored with me. It's no one's fault really it's  
>just this cursed mystic face I have. So I have to consider it my duty to… to what?<p>

Again she shyly turns and looks like at me like the newlywed she should have been.

Hmm, I decided to accept her geis and protect her; however only for my duty and my honor. Still I have  
>one regret; just one thing I wish was changed… She's wearing her wedding dress which makes running a<br>huge pain; therefore I decide to carry her until we reach the forest.

* * *

><p>A canopy of ancient trees blots out the all seeing eye in the sky. A white, chaste wedding dress has no<br>place in such a deep dark ominous forest and neither are her dainty shoes fit for this forest floor which is  
>seemingly alive. Her shoes make her trip and stumble but even if I offered to carry her again after she<br>fell face first onto the roots she still refuses with a red and dirty face. She's stubborn, I'll give her that  
>much. However a mouse squeaks and she cringes. I mentally add that to the growing list that already<br>contains dragonflies, caterpillars, and beetles. Though I sincerely believe this is to be expected of a  
>princess whose dowry was a whole kingdom. She must have almost never been outside the palace so I<br>wonder for a moment that maybe all she wanted to do is to run though the word and see as much as  
>she could. Maybe love was never a factor but I only linger onto this hope for a few moments because<br>the splendid standards and the burgeoning banners of the fianna come into sight. I severely reprimand  
>my thoughts because I see four hundred of the knights I once led after my life and I know their<br>frightening ability the best. Each fighting man standing high and tall is equal to one of the British king's  
>knights of round. Each man's armor catches the scarce sunlight in this overgrown forest blocking out the<br>expression on their faces but I know each one is disappointed in me. Oscar, Osin, so many memories,  
>but mostly regret because why would I forsaken them for a woman? The only real motivation I have this<br>geis however I…

My eyes sweep and weave until they meet him, my lord, the man I betrayed, the man whose fiancée I  
>had taken away. The rage which burns in his eyes is full of passion but not with the passion of love; it is<br>filled with the passion of having something taken away from him, the passion of hate.

As if he were a winged being he dashes right toward me with only one footstep.

"Hand her over," his old gruff voice is barely contained; therefore no niceties are exchanged.

I open my mouth to try to explain however my open mouth is caught by Grainne's mouth, soft, sweet,  
>overripe, and disgusting. She crushes all hope of negotiation or pardon and then demolishes any chance<br>of survival with seven more kisses to my face.

He rushes in to slice me with his shiny, sharp, sword of legend. But I meet it with my talisman wrapped  
>golden javelin. However my eye of mind tells me I will be unable to ward off his next attack while<br>protecting Grainne so I must and cannot…

I close my eyes at the end like a coward

-but the blow never comes. Because time has stopped.

A blooming light that washes away all shadows even all the light. This is the crystallization of human's  
>hopes and desires; this is a "god" which is both good and evil since humans wish for both. He is<br>shrouded in a cloak of glory; his perfectly sculpted body is framed by a light robe. Sunshine curls bob up  
>and down even when there is no wind and those rose lips are a ruby encrusted into a soap-stone<br>complexion.

A beauty that defies humanity.

A beauty that defies beauty.

My fickle, foster-father, Angus, lord of love. I am sure Grainne would faint at the sight of such a Divinity.

"Diarmuid, how did you get yourself into this situation?" he asks exasperated.

"Apologies Lord father, but please use your cloak of invisibility to spirit us away."

"I can only spirit one away." He replies flatly.

"Take her." I motion to Grainne.

He looks rather flabbergasted.

"Isn't she… his bride?" He points to Finn who is in mid-swing.

I am rather surprised that he still follows the happenings of our mortal world.

"Long story, I shall tell it to you when we next meet, but please this is urgent."

He looks sulky, but he concedes because of the situation with a "Fine."

Magnificently he lifts his cloak and softly enwraps the princess and with a yellow flash… disappears and  
>like it should time accelerates into its original stately march.<p>

The sword strike that never should have arrived finally arrives but due to the lapse in time I am able to  
>cleanly dodge it.<p>

"Please, my lord, sheathe your sword." I beseech him to arrive at the negotiating table.

He roars incoherently unencumbered by the voice he now considers as mere sound and therefore I can  
>do this no longer. He is my lord. I do not want to fight, I do not want to break my honor –which is my<br>loyalty- however I have accepted the geis and I will take Grainne to the ends of the earth, so even if I  
>wanted to I can't die here milord, but I can't kill my friends and, yes, I still consider you men as my friends<br>so…

I retreat five steps because these five steps are all I need, and raise Gae Dearg, the longer of the twins.  
>Forward, I move two steps, running a current of prana though my magic circuits and on the third step I<br>plunge the spear into the ground. Finn charges at me, his gleaming armor and his starlit sword are  
>gleaming, mirroring his fury. His old yet still handsome face is distorted with rage that musses his<br>formerly neat short silvery hair. His intelligent eyes that have beheld the salmon of knowledge are now  
>bulbous and so hate filled.<p>

Which is the reason I try to make my eyes as kindly as possible and meet his hate filled eyes.

Are his eyes filled with the anger of betrayal?

Betrayal from whom?

Grainne?

Me?

Or both?

It doesn't matter; I want to reassure him, after all this is the man who has been my life for all my short  
>life.<p>

"Milord, no matter what may happen, no matter what, first and foremost I am your knight, so please no  
>matter how much hate or anger you hold for me; please remember that because I will never attack you,<br>I will never harm you because…"

He cuts my words with his sword but it does not slice me into two because I am already in the air. Using  
>my spear in the ground as a pole I leap and while leaping take the pole that I used as a stand. The army's<br>eyes wander over me and I leap through the ranks and end up on the opposite side of the army. The  
>moment my feet touch the ground I take off more out of fear than exhilaration, fear that my friends will<br>eventually catch up to me. However they do not move, they have no orders to move, the leader is  
>completely speechless. Does my lord finally realize the futility of chasing me? No, he stops because of<br>my defiance, my defiance filled with apparent loyalty. He can't stand it. Like any other man he cannot  
>stand the thought of a noble, loyal kidnapper. A man believes that he himself is right. So right now his<br>heart is like a burning coal filling his body with poisonous fumes, fumes that will destroy him. I bow my  
>head in apology as I run; I hurt him even if I said I would not. I hurt the part of him most vulnerable, his<br>trust in me, so I cannot hurt him further, he is my lord and I owe him my life, yet thoughts of that  
>spoiled princess Grainne flow like a river, we've only been a day and I already find her completely<br>unpleasant yet, it would hurt my honor to refuse her request. Either choice destroys whatever honor I  
>have left, I… my brain starts to shut down due to an amounting pressure so I just run.<p>

I just run.

From what?

* * *

><p>I turn my head and watch her sitting by the fire no longer dressed in that ridiculous finery. Yet the way I<br>view her does not change. She has an aura of regal-ness something a person without the fate of a country  
>on her shoulders would simply not understand. Even if that is my view of her I still cannot<br>sympathize nor emphasize with her, who dragged me along into this mess to escape a political, loveless  
>marriage to my lord. She notices I'm looking at her and turns always in shyness.<p>

"Will you please listen to me instead of ogling her?" My foster-father is irritated.

"I'm not, I'm…" I try to start but…

"Make your choice, if you go back to Finn and beg for forgiveness he may offer it; otherwise you can run  
>with that spoiled princess."<p>

"I…I… I don't know what to do." I ended up sounding pathetic.

"Do you love her?" He gets straight to the point.

"Of course not." I answer immediately without hesitation.

"Then why? Why did you run away with her?"

"She fell in love because of the love-spot…I…have an obligation."

He looks at me and sighs: "That old thing again? You should know anything that hap-"

"I know Father, it's not my fault, however I just can't… I mean…"

"You want it to be your fault?" He laugh from the belly, "That's like admitting your love."

"No! I…I have to fix her, I have to find a cure or…"

My father's deep baby blue eyes turn sage-like and I plunge into their depths.

"What will happen if you don't find a cure and manage to escape? All she'll be going from is one loveless  
>political marriage to another loveless political marriage. Although on paper it may seem fair and well, in<br>reality one can't live with someone out of duty, eventually it will turn into a poison that corrupts both  
>souls and that will be that, nothing more, nothing less, you will be signing your own death warrants. Is<br>that really okay?"

My eyes become colored hopeless, the hopelessness that a child finds when he learns of mortality. It's  
>sad. It's a sad ending that no one wants. It's a sad ending that I don't want. It's an ending so sad, that<br>sad is too simplistic of a word to explain it, yet that feeling is so simple, so basic that it can only be  
>explained by the word "sad." I just look at my father, he who brought me up when I was abandoned by<br>my true father. So yet I, so I…

"Yes, it'll be fine." I say so from the bottom of the bottom of my heart without conviction.

He just stares at me and then imparts his final wisdom:

"Love maybe work but work will never be love, there has to have been a spark in the beginning."

He leaves as if a silhouette abducted by the wind, his final ominous words merely a whisper in the wind.  
>I turn and return to the crackling flame and Grainne. Standing above the sitting figure and in one<br>sweeping motion I tenderly hold her head.

"M'l-" I cut her off with my own promise.

"I'll protect you, I'll protect you from me and I'll definitely find a cure."

I promise to myself more that I promise to her.

She makes a small squeak so I release her. I know I don't love her. I know I can't so until I cure her I have  
>to protect her from the person that may be the most harm to her; the person she obsessively loves but<br>does not returns her feelings, me.

However that seemed to be my greatest mistake. Loyal till without a thought was Diarmuid de Duibhe,  
>an exemplary knight, full of chivalry. He always puts his lord first, he always rescues a lady no matter<br>how ugly or distressed. That was my downfall because what should I fight for when I am fighting my  
>lord to protect a lady so… what is right? I said I would protect Grainne yet I promised my lord that I<br>would not hurt him.

I…

She…

He…

Did you ever think…

What do I want?

* * *

><p>Calm down, but I am calm. It's fine, I know it's fine so why am I running away from these hounds I should<br>be… An unexpected weight heaves on my back. O, Grainne. That's right I have to protect her. In my other  
>hand is a pitiful dagger after all my lances cannot reach in such a dense forest, it would be attracted to a<br>tree or stuck if swung awkwardly. Unexpectedly the basset hound leaps, but before it touches  
>Grainne… my hand is in its throat and the head of the basset is torn out from the inside. Yet we keep on<br>running, running and knowing it may be the last step, knowing that I will die I… I continue to run,  
>continue to hopelessly run so therefore I run because there is hope. I… pathetically fall on a root as my<br>last breath exhales from my mouth…

"Grainne…"

That word has become natural and I say it before I think it. But for some reason the weight on my back,  
>on my back is gone. Where has Grainne gone? A hound dives for my throat, its slobber wetting the<br>target knowing I will be torn to pieces. Feeling light headed, my final wish is for Grainne to escape but…  
>what about me?<p>

If I have wish for myself then it's to start again…no not even that, I just want to show my loyalty.

To who?

Myself, I want to prove I am loyal…I… if this life did not let me, let my next life please be filled with the  
>endeavor of loyalty. Let nothing like this happen again. I just want to be a loyal knight.<p>

Yes, if there is an omnipotential wish granting machine somewhere, anywhere, please hear my pr… the  
>last word never comes out, why?<p>

Because the basset hound that was about to kill me actually has been completely sliced in half by the  
>dagger that was in my hand. Three hounds left, there are three hounds left, but where is Grainne? All I<br>see is the back of a raging god of death spotlighted by the rays of the sun. Ahh… before I faint I just hope  
>Grainne has escaped because after this Being kills those hounds, it will kill her. Still this sight is so<br>antique, ancient yet sacred that I want her to see it… maybe then she'll be less spoiled.

And with that thought I fade into nothingness.

* * *

><p>This is a memory.<p>

Just one memory.

Just a memory.

A memory not five days old.

But a memory nonetheless.

A raging tempest blows through the battlefield known as hell.

Blindly raging only to protect a lady, a complete stranger he does not care about. So could one call it a  
>disgrace that he systematically tore apart a village in three days? So then, is this man evil?<p>

A man who challenged a village to ride a gigantic torc and let them all try and die by being squashed.

Is that man a coward?

That same man challenged the village again to walk on the edge of a sword. That one feat massacred  
>seven kings.<p>

Is that man a murderer?

Now the same man is a tempest of fire and ice, fury and ruthlessness.

His golden rose exposes his opponents to their long forgotten mortality.

His crimson rose robs any man of divine protection.

Is that an unfair advantage?

Is this man who is breaking so many vows just to keep one geis a hypocrite?

Most importantly

-is this a man that deserves to die?

He doesn't know; he cannot come to an answer no matter how hard he struggles he cannot come to an  
>answer devoid of pride. So until then he's just running away. Running away and killing by raging blindly<br>like a tempest.

So is it his fault?

Yes, he believes so after all it's his indecision that caused so many deaths. However he's scared, the hero  
>is scared and why shouldn't he be?<p>

It's not like he's a god.

It's not like he's even a magus.

He's a human who destroyed everything he stood for yet he still has not attacked any of his friends nor  
>has he touched his lord or his lord's intended bride.<p>

He is merely a man that cannot make a decision.

So right now… he is letting out all this raw stored up emotion by becoming this raging tempest of  
>destruction. Still this man does not compare, this raging tempest is just a tantrum compared to that god<br>of death, that warring god shrouded by the sun. That god would be enough to protect both Grainne  
>and serve his lord unlike me who has to wish for a next life to serve his lord as loyally as possible. So<br>Grainne you should have fallen in love with him

-I'm an idiot because I forgot, I forgot that you never fell in love, this face crammed "attraction" into  
>your pure soul. So even if I can't say it to your face because I am too cowardly: I apologize Grainne, it truly is<br>my fault not matter what Angus may say. But Grainne, why do you believe that you love me?

* * *

><p>When someone is injured the person taking care of them cries for perhaps a few minutes then they<br>reach a state of eternal hope. Of course, this is not the situation when the person injured is taken care  
>of by the person who injured them. That's different, that person knows whether the injured person will<br>live or die, so which is why I am keenly fascinated by the hard, heated drops falling and splashing onto  
>my face. The feeling of such an act is actually quite disgusting. Still she's crying and it's my fault. I…<p>

My eyes finally open to the sight of her red swelled up eyes. They're not pretty; however I cannot deny  
>there is a certain charm, vulnerability, a certain fragility that is inherently awakened by the act of crying<br>therefore:

"I'm fine, I'm really fine so don't cry."

A random yelp at the sound of my weak voice and she embraces me tightly.

"Grainne, it hurts!"

The sharp pain runs through my entire body but she does not stop.

"Really, really, I thought you were going to die."

"Grainne." I start but then stop because her arms that warmly entwine my body in this cold cave with  
>the sound of water splashing from the heaves are hurt and bruised.<p>

"Sorry, m'lo.."

I shush her as quietly as I can; the sound travels though her ear and a tense, expected hush falls though  
>the cave until only the pitter-patter of the rain can be heard. If she had run away as I thought and told<br>her to, how would she be injured? The only answer to that is she stayed behind even if I thought no one was  
>by my side when I watched that god of death. Her bruises and wounds are proof of that so therefore:<p>

"Diarmuid, please use my name from now on, after all 'milord' sounds stiff."

Even if I am unable to see her, she's smiling and blushing as brightly as the sun. However I cannot  
>explain why I did such a thing. Could it be without knowing so I made my decision? If so, even not, I have<br>reached the point where I can no longer return.

* * *

><p>Blindly walking around through the day.<p>

Having never to sleep at the same place twice.

This is a nomadic life, a life of freedom at the cost of captivity if caught. So we circle the world escaping,  
>running. She complained…a lot. However it seemed she complained less and less so perhaps she was<br>getting accustomed to life and so a day became a week, a week became a month, a month became two  
>and eventually two months became a time, simply an amount of time that we no longer could be<br>bothered to record.

Was I happy?

Sometimes.

Did I feel guilty because of my happiness?

Yes, every moment of everyday I was guilty. Because my lord…

What was he doing?

Did he need me?

What did he think?

And did that promise mean anything to him?

Doubts like these foster poison and then they fester and ruin the happiness that we fight for after  
>taking so many casualties. In the end happiness is an illusion.<p>

An illusion, ghostly, and mist-like hovering over the fens.

An illusion that is pierced by the crimson rose of exorcism.

* * *

><p>A sweeping fog hugs and then slowly moistens cloak we are sharing. The moistening of the cloak makes<br>Grainne shiver and I, with a reluctant heart, pull her slightly closer. She heats up a little and I can hear  
>the thumping. It's a sweet sound that I do not wish to hear. And so in that manner we trudge along with<br>me worrying about our finances. I have sold most of the gold we took with us; however she begged me  
>not to sell the wedding dress, as a memento of the first time when we met. I urged her to sell that after<br>she said that. So I worry, immersed in my own thought until Grainne shyly pulled at my top, a gentle pull  
>that cried attention but repressed attention.<p>

A small sound different for her usually melodic voice: "Can you hear it?"

My silence and furrowed brow for itself.

"Sorry it must just be me."

She's awfully shy today, but is that the reason?

"It's fine, you don't have to be sorry, it's good having at least one of us aware of the surroundings."

That stops her speaking for a while and again we silently move on through the thick blanket of smog  
>which throws everything in five meters into an unknown.<p>

I don't understand change. As a knight change has never been a constant for me.

Fighting.

Eating.

Sleeping.

That has been the routine of my life.

Was it fun?

Once she asked this and I was unable to answer because rather than fun…

I never thought it could be fun.

It was a routine almost like the daily commute that farmers take.

Nothing more, nothing less, and soon this escape became a routine as well. Frightening isn't it, how the  
>human mind can adapt so well to almost anything and everything. I used to hate this situation, now,<br>now…

I believe and tell myself I hate it but my body has played traitor to me and resigned itself to such a fate.

That is very… irksome; a little like that tapping noise.

I look to Grainne and no, she is not making that noise.

"Di-Diarmuid can you hear it?"

I nod I simply nod then charge all my prana into that feeble magic circuit of mine and with the newfound  
>adrenaline tackle Grainne and quickly pull the cloak over us.<p>

A simple gust of wind opens the veil to the all-encompassing sky as a thousand needles strike the place  
>we were just standing.<p>

We're cramped and dead under this cloak.

We're free and dead outside of this cloak.

That is my absolute prediction; however, there's a way… there has to be a way because we're almost  
>there, our journey is almost at its end.<p>

Across this fen is the gateway to Tir Tairngire, the fairy land.

Across is fen is the end of this earth.

And upon reaching there my geis is complete, I will be able to return Grainne to milord and all will be  
>happy once again.<p>

But I can't.

I can't do that.

I can't do that if Grainne dies.

I can't do that if I die.

So…

My reassuring voice floats through the cramped space:

"Grainne, this is the only order I ever will give you, okay?"

Her face turns serious.

"Don't you dare die," my voice is stern, but I try to flavor it with a scent of kindness, "Stay here, don't move,  
>don't do anything; the cloak camouflages with the fen so it's be fine if you don't move."<p>

She looks at me one last time in a very different manner and…

"When will you be back?"

An innocent question that I cannot answer.

"When I win." I say so all the while resisting the temptation to look back at her.

I try to reassure her as best I can but… I really believe there is no hope yet I get up from the ground and  
>from unseen to seen.<p>

Still…

I just realized; why am I doing this?

Why can't I just run?

Is it because I'm a knight?

No, knights retreat all the time, most of a knight's career is retreating.

Is it because I need to make sure Grainne gets to my lord?

Then why don't I just tell her to run to the end of the earth; I mean it's only a bit away, plus when she  
>gets there will no longer be a geis and I can just go back a couple of miles and tell Milord.<p>

But that's not happening is it?

So why?

Why am I scourging on the ground so desperately trying to cling to life when I could be concluding this  
>drama?<p>

Why am I so desperately trying to run away from darts strewn from the prana saturated lily-pad of an  
>avenging old mad woman when I could be telling that hag I am her ward's loyal knight?<p>

And finally why am I holding my dual spears up to her as an enemy, when I can be asking for my lord for  
>forgiveness?<p>

"I - you."

Her first words come to mind but my personality blocks those thoughts.

No, I don't want that.

I really don't want that.

My body has already betrayed my lord; I do not want my emotions to betray him either.

And she's just someone I have to protect from myself.

My feeble magic circuit tries to roar as I sail through the air attempting once again the dodge those  
>intricate darts.<p>

But…

As Gae Buidhe comes sweeping downwards striking the gigantic lily-pad

But…

Grainne's frightened.

Grainne's frightened of the consequences.

That's why her face was so difficult to read.

Grainne's scared.

So.

All that the thorns of the golden rose wound is a condensed wall of prana.

-Clang.

The clear chime makes it obvious that the shield is a boundary field, not a wall. It's a detection and  
>protection based boundary field. Even invisible attacks are warded and then the magus learns everything<br>about the weapon and the technique that was used.

Therefore…

Red.

All I can see is red.

A red so crimson that my Gae Dearg looks pink.

A red so crimson it borders on vermillion.

A sickening, overripe vermillion that covers the world.

She cackles.

She cackles so loudly that I'm sure even Grainne could hear from under that cloak.

My arms, my back, my legs are all streaming blood because the darts homed in and pierced my body.

Ironic that it is those exact darts that are keeping me mid-air right this instant.

She's just cackling.

Just cackling.

It's annoying.

Really annoying.

Because, she's not old.

She's not a hag at all.

Her old winkled face has a dignified touch to it, the final remnant of an evanescent beauty.

She became a hag because other peopled wished for it.

She became a hag because eventually she wished for it.

The poison of the outside world festered…it festered and splayed therefore it is obvious

-this is the result.

This is the final example of his question, the question of a god which knows exactly what the hopes and  
>desires of humanity are.<p>

"Is that really okay?"

He asked me if it was okay.

He asked me if I thought it was okay.

And that's when it dawns to me.

I had a choice.

I had a choice that cackling lady didn't.

I had a chance that sniveling Grainne under the cloak didn't.

These people followed a path without ever being asked if they are okay with that path

-I have to admit, from the depths of my heart, that they are stronger.

They are stronger than Diarmuid Ua Duibhe will ever be because I didn't even know.

I didn't even know that I had a choice.

What was my decision and more importantly…

"Is that really okay?"

Is it really okay that I do not know what that decision was?

No.

Of course it's not.

To say that it is okay is the same as insulting all those who are forced onto a path.

So I have to survive; not to find what that decision was, but to protect that decision, because that  
>decision is what led me to my current life, the life which I have the protect from the world, and more<br>importantly the person I have to protect against myself.

So even if right now if all I see is red.

So even if right now if all I feel is pain.

The only expression on my face is pity.

Because she has just been impaled by the crimson rose of exorcism.

And with a feeble, almost crying voice I cast, with the finality of an epic, the true name that realizes the  
>mystery finishing this hellish absolution:<p>

Gae Dearg.

The flat sound fails to ring through the fens unable to alert the critters of the end to a courageous life.

Gae Dearg, covered in my pumping vermillion blood, pierces multiple prana supplies.

As soon as the crimson rose touched the boundary field, the boundary field failed.

As soon as the red rose touched the lily-pad, the lily-pad was only a lily-pad.

As soon as the vermillion rose touched the reinforced age old heart of the hag, it was only splatters of  
>red.<p>

There is no light-show.

There is no splendor.

Just a man killing a woman.

Just a woman cursing that man.

Just a man falling.

Falling to what he thought to be naught.

But instead, falling to the arms of the person who he thought was too scared to crawl out of the cloak.

* * *

><p>Suddenly I awaken and realize that I have arrived at my destination, this is the end of the earth. But<br>there is nothing, no jagged rocks, no empty darkness. It's just a cliff, a cliff and an expanse of grey  
>ocean stretching out until it inevitably meets the sky. The only reason this can be call the end of the<br>earth is that right next to that strange looking bush is a portal, a portal to the land of fairies.

Grainne is standing a distance away from me with a guarded look on her face. She expects something  
>because the geis is complete and broken.<p>

If it's broken when why don't I feel any different?

All I feel is the emptiness, the emptiness that I began this journey with.

"So where are we going now?" she says with a false smile that is slowly crumbling.

So why?

Why can't I look her in the eye as she speaks from that breaking heart of hers?

Why can't I tell her what I intended to do.

We don't have much time either because soon the fianna will arrive in this place.

"I…"

I try to speak but stop.

I stop because

...because

She knew.

She knew this would be the finish line.

Why else would she say "ends of the earth?"

She knew this would be the conclusion.

There is no salvation for anyone. There are only emotions that have been heartlessly stepped on.

This is such a conclusion.

She would never be saved.

Did she even want to be saved?

Of course, because everyone wants to be saved.

But from the beginning there was no hope for salvation.

So she held onto it.

The spoiled princess held onto the temporary happiness she made for herself, hoping, wishing, that it  
>was enough happiness so she could endure her eternally miserable future, a wasteland devoid of<br>emotion and filled with the thorns known as duty.

So with all her might she tried to defend this fragile illusion we call happiness.

So I'll confirm it.

I'll give her a decision.

I will make that impossibility possible, but only in she wishes for it, and if she truly wants it.

"Is it really okay?"

She nods and with a voice about to dissipate:

"It'll be fine, it'll always be fine," and with a breath that seems to last all of a moment and all of eternity  
>at the same time, "because we'll always be together."<p>

And she's right.

She gave the answer I couldn't give my foster-father. Everything will be fine even if we do not love each  
>other. It'll be fine. It'll be fine because we'll be together. There are no other factors. If we let our hate fester<br>and let it sink us into hell, that hell will be our own private hell. The only suffering that will occur is between us.  
>So its fine, it'll always be fine. Because we are together, and just maybe, just maybe, one day<br>we'll find the antidote to that poison. An antidote we could not find alone, something only two people  
>working together with all their might could find.<p>

I sigh and decide to ask the question I should have asked at the beginning but that I have withheld for  
>what seems a timeless expanse, until now.<p>

"What part of me?" I ask her who has tears in her eyes.


	4. into Berserker: utter'd Fantasy

**into Berserker: utter'd Fantasy**

"_Ah. Yes, that's right.  
><em>_At the time, had I not been a knight, but only lived as a man –  
><em>_Had I not been a loyal subject, but hated you as a human –  
><em>_Then, perhaps, I could have saved that woman!"_

_-Berserker, Fate/Zero_

She wasn't beautiful; however she wasn't exactly ugly either.

She wasn't interesting; however she wasn't a bore either because…

-even if her eyes didn't sparkle, there was a sage-like intelligence that seeped through her not quite  
>dainty brows but not too thick brows as well.<p>

And the even more peculiar thing was that her clothes were not exactly befitting of this occasion;  
>however they were not ragged or threadbare but they were well looked after.<p>

Therefore by all features and accounts, I could only describe her with the single word as "pleasant." Pleasant  
>as this velvet green landscape we gazed upon and the pear tree we were resting under.<p>

It was quite a shock really how we got here; imagine for a second as a knight conversing with the king  
>who is quite a small fellow and some ladies, when a lady knocks on your armor as it is a door and then<br>begging the pardon to be escorted outside without a reason. Then what is more ridiculous is your child-  
>like king who you also happen to call a noble friend, grins at you telling you to go on as if supporting a<br>suit. And

-this is her destination, this sea of green so deep that one could drown in it with a pear tree which  
>serves as the jagged rock in the midst of the still green ocean.<p>

So here we were, away from the humdrum of the party of Camelot where the King and Queen  
>entertained the lords and ladies of the land, me, Lancelot sitting in full armor back to back with the lady<br>who refused to give me her name, but other than that seems like a very "pleasant" girl.

This is awkward.

Not awkward for me but rather for her; the fidgeting of her fingertips and the shyly blossoming face just  
>makes it very obvious used already used up all her courage to ask me here.<p>

And for what reason?

I still do not know, so I try to ease the atmosphere amongst the sea of green overlooked by the many-  
>spired Camelot.<p>

"M'lady…we both know that this is a world that is both far and wide. Therefore I cannot boast that I  
>have seen much of it. However do you wish to lend me your ears for a tale…or perhaps two?"<p>

She tries to look into my eyes but looks right away and I almost mistake that accident as a shake of the  
>head however… however her mouth opens ever so slightly and:<p>

"Yes," a sound one can truly call a mere whisper in the wind.

I'm surprised not because she wants to hear my tale but rather because I want to tell it. Have I grown  
>arrogant? I surely hope not but the request has been cast I have no right to refuse or postpone my<br>words any longer.

* * *

><p>To this day I still never thought of her as evil. All she wanted from me was to find a falcon; it was a<br>simple enough request from the lady of the household that had given me so my hospitality. She, well I  
>don't like to say so, but very plain, so plain that no one, including me would suspect her of anything<br>immoral. So I set out amongst the wilderness to find that falcon.

From a very young age I have been taught to earn my own keep so even if my hosts insisted I didn't  
>need to pay them anything… I had to do something. However I could not call this a chore because the<br>scenery I passed on my way was just stunning; the sweeping wind gushed through the bright trees which  
>sparkled in the sun and briefly letting out a precious ray of light perhaps spotlighting a rock, or a lizard,<br>however whatever was momentarily blessed by the light became infinitely more beautiful. And  
>eventually in that lush forest, secluded from the world in the same way as the high-spired Camelot, exposed<br>the falcon and when my eyes were first laid upon it I had to admit the hyperbole of the lady was  
>completely correct. Anyone's heart would be torn if she lost such a hawk, because it was absolutely<br>glorious; so fine bred and proud, its crest so high as if challenging the father of birds, its feathers sleek  
>and gleaming because no once had it fought. Everyday this hawk was groomed and when I thought<br>about and realized that someone was employed as servant to such an animal. She…

A flash from above the treetops and a sword is deftly blocked with my wrist gauntlet. It was favorable  
>that I had aptly equipped my armor before this hunt, but it was my biggest regret that I left Arondight<br>back in the mansion.

Five arrow-like strikes and my armor was already dented and I suddenly noticed that this knight who randomly  
>jumped out of the tree to ambush me would not stop.<p>

There would be no parley involved.

He would not stop until I had drawn one final blood choked breath.

Therefore I must stop him before my armor gives out.

And then I stopped him and won.

* * *

><p>She stares at me puzzled.<p>

"What about the fight? And the lady as well," her eyes are now wide in suspense.

"Well milady it wasn't exactly a bloodless fight…" I trail on trying to stop.

But her wide eager eyes are an exact opposite to her eyes in a few minutes ago.

So feeling some regret…I continue.

* * *

><p>My gauntlet reaches out, sparkling in the sun, and catches the blade falling down.<p>

Heavy.

The strike is really heavy, so heavy that my shoulders almost were dislocated. However as soon as the  
>knight noticed that my hands were on his blade he let go instantly.<p>

That begs the question why?

He could have cleanly chopped off my hands; after all, they were in an awkward position. So…

"Sir Phelot, please why are you doing this after being so kind?" I beseech him to stop.

"Why, a chance to slay the great Lancelot, surely I would become the greatest knight in the land." He  
>looks at the falcon as he says so.<p>

I mentally go through my memorized chivalric code and:

"I'll fight you, but it were shame for an armed to slay an unarmed man. A knight does not die with  
>empty hands."<p>

"You will have no such favor from me," said Sir Phelot, "so just brace yourself."

I quickly move to the left and his sword digs into the elm tree while he tries to take out the sword. I look  
>around for a weapon, any weapon because he was scared; he was scared when I touched the virgin edge<br>of that blade. Scared, that's why he won't give me a weapon, any weapon and that's why and what am I going to  
>do so…<p>

Devise a system.

I have to devise a system.

Like an army of locusts, whole and over.

A system.

Faster.

The point of capture to the point of attack.

Split the process.

Expand.

And twice-fold that expansion.

Make the prana usage from magic circuit feasible.

Complete.

Polish and roll out because it must be switched.

The switch is likened to a flash of thunder, a weapon from the future which functions like a bow and  
>arrow.<p>

Name?

Of course every new legend needs a name that reflects its mystery so

-I nimbly climb the nearest tree in full armor, and it's not as easy as it sounds how I explain it, milady so  
>please try to withhold your laughter even if it joys me to see it. I reach out to a sturdy branch and rip it<br>cleanly off the tree. Phelot is ready, his standing on the ground need to fight me.

I jump and meet him.

It's bewildering.

It's must be when your sword is completely parried by an elm branch.

His pushing, trying to use his initiative to throw me off but he can't because I'm the stronger one because  
>the elm branch is coated in a clear invasive prana which makes it sturdy enough to fight gods.<p>

"Knight of Honor: A Knight Does Not Die With Empty Hands."

Eventually Phelot is pushed back and back again. He begins to swing wildly knowing his eventual defeat so  
>he prepares a stance, stance which says: "I put my life behind this strike."<p>

"For glory and my lady!" he roars invigorating his weary arms.

But it's easily deflected.

He's on his last legs so even a desperate attack like such cannot do much harm; his only error was the  
>timing, as soon as he noticed he was starting to swing wildly he should have put everything into one<br>blow to decide the match.

And so he falls.

No; it falls because it's no longer human.

It was a human a second ago, but now it is only a corpse.

Because I cut off its head. Sorry milady this is why I didn't want to tell you.

This is the darker side to chivalry.

And I suddenly think-

What were his last words?

-"For glory and my lady"

From that I cannot believe he was a bad knight.

I go further-

What did she want?

-I just want that falcon back.

Lay the truth he says on top of the truth she says and the sad truth of the couple is revealed. First of all  
>I'd just like to tell you that they are not bad people, just victims of their inability to honestly express their<br>feelings.

There marriage was not political; anyone could tell through the lady's accent that she's not noble born.  
>Therefore, that falcon is her ideal; beautiful, fierce, proud, someone that her husband only had eyes for.<br>Ever if her intentions are innocent enough and so desperate, she's an idiot. She did realize that what she  
>wanted was right in front of her and that her husband only had eyes for her. She should have realized<br>that when he asked her and not a rich noble to be his wife. If not then she should have realized when her  
>husband started to imitate the same falcon she was trying to imitate. He is a peacock, a flashy thing that<br>tries to impress the plainest of mates, and while trying to find all that glory and splendor for her, he  
>neglected her and made her believe she wasn't good enough when all that time he was only trying to<br>impress her. Therein lies the problem; she never wanted to be impressed, she didn't care how many  
>people Phelot had killed, she didn't care, but he thought she did. So he's also an idiot. Truly they are so<br>idiotic that they could not see they loved each other so truly and so deeply. When did this cycle start? I  
>don't know, but I know it will never end. So I ended it; I ended the wishes that made the other person's<br>wish redundant.

The way you look at me is as if you are telling me to have stopped them instead of putting an end to it,  
>so I ask you what if I did. What if I did make them aware of their mistakes?<p>

Perhaps they could have become happy. Perhaps they could have become happy for the rest of their  
>days.<p>

But, more likely the cycle would have started again because their story ended when they got married,  
>that was their happily ever after. To keep their emotions true and pure, to keep their emotions eternal I<br>killed them.

It's wrong; I know that killing is definitely wrong you have to remind me of that with your thinly veiled  
>disgust.<p>

However as you see the world and the world sees you, death becomes an option, not a grand option,  
>but a mere choice, but most importantly, your choice.<p>

He weighed everything into his sword strike and lost.

She weighed everything into the man who lost.

This is the result. There is nothing really that sad at all. Again I doubt either of them could have lived the  
>way they did before after this event. It's not a nice conclusion, but conclusions are never nice,<br>conclusions are simple and uninteresting, only endings are nice, so milady I have to apologize for not  
>only that slight sadness I spy in your eyes, but also for the gruesome and morbid story I carelessly told.<p>

I slight my eyes and this time I apologize to myself as well. I apologize for letting out a part of myself to  
>her.<p>

* * *

><p>A dull consciousness.<p>

A fuzzy consciousness.

I cannot see anything, because I can only see everything.

I cannot hear the grass swaying with the breeze,

I cannot hear the rustling leaves on that pear tree.

But I can hear the world moving.

I can hear how the world progresses, even if I can't see that the sky is above me, I just know that it is,  
>that is the type of consciousness I am experiencing.<p>

It's like eternally dying but never becoming dead; my soul does not leave my body which is dead.

Then I notice speech above me. What are the two saying; all I can "see" are the blurred figures of the  
>men. I comprehend every word but I cannot comprehend what those words mean together.<p>

"Is my daughter?" The younger one asks slightly reproachfully.

The older one just sadly nods even if his eyes are not filled with any sadness at all. The younger man  
>looks wilder, more desperate and eventually after fidgeting with his soul…<p>

"I beg you, you are the greatest magus of the land, please, please save her, anything, I'll give you  
>anything."<p>

The old man who I now recognize as the greatest magus in the land slowly shakes his head and says  
>"Like you said I am a man who has everything in the world in his grasp. What could you, a lesser noble<br>do for me?"

There is no arrogance in his voice he is merely stating a fact. A fact I cannot understand. For the first  
>time I grow aware of myself, softly, fleeting, eternally. What I do not want to comprehend fills me with a<br>melancholy sadness. Sadness so large this tiny body cannot completely hold it. I shouldn't be sad though.  
>Me, I, my eternity under the crisp clear azure sky which stretches into infinity and eternity but all of<br>naught at the same time.

* * *

><p>I roughly shake my head to rid myself of her apparent face, believing it was all a hallucination.<p>

She looks longingly as if there is something she wants to say, something she wants to know but is too  
>scared to know. So I urge her on, after all she did end up listening to that tale of mine.<p>

"Go, ask me, anything."

She just stares at me, the blond hair that frames her soft face glimmers a tiny bit, just enough to suggest  
>a slight movement and therefore a decision.<p>

"Someone like the lady and lord… you also…?" she stops herself

My questing look begs her to continue.

"L-L…L-LOVER!"

Hah? Surprised, my startled look must look very, very humorous.

"Do you have one? Surely…" Again she trails off; this girl trails off all too often.

I look away from her to the aimless sky and lend up telling the truth.

"Yes, I do, I do have someone." I say so with conviction that shouldn't be there.

"Oh…That's nice." The fleetingly crestfallen expression is replaced with a smile making me believe it was  
>illusion. "Wh-What's she like?"<p>

It seems to me she's sincerely interested. It seems to me she sincerely wants me to be happy. So I  
>decide to tell her with a somewhat great reluctance.<p>

"Well she's very noble," and I stop because I really can't describe her without giving away her identity.

But this girl wants to know; I don't know what and why she wants to know. However since she listened  
>to the last tale with ravenous hunger; I hope this tale will sate her.<p>

"Err, would you rather hear a story about her?"

Surprise, illusions of sadness, it's only a transition of an expression and a rapt attention.

* * *

><p>I shatter the glass to slay this pitiful me.<p>

I shatter the glass to arrive at the same destination as my beloved.

And stare in horror at the scene, so many emotions once forgotten, so many feelings absent just flow  
>back into my head. He was wrong; this was never an oblivion recorder because what was my na-<p>

* * *

><p>"_" softly I call her name but I do not hear a stir.<p>

It's a very pretty suite with a bath and soft bed. She really seems well taken care of however no matter  
>how luxurious the room is, it's still a prison cell. I move through the broken window and my boots snap<br>and crackle with the broken glass and then I reach my hand into the dark abyss of twilight and

-white hot pain.

A wild pain as if a burning white poker had stung my head.

Headache. Headache.

Falling, I'm not feeling the sensation but I know I am falling

-because my face which is so hot and now bruised can feel the pleasant coolness that the floor provides.  
>Too bad my back feels a bare foot digging in.<p>

"Aha!" A loud voice full of triumph "Just because I'm a pri-"

"It's me." My voice sounds pathetic while on the ground. "I'm here to save you."

"You don't sound very convincing when you're like that, Lance."

I awkwardly twist my neck with great effort to see a brown homespun sleeping gown; it's very simple  
>however the woman wear it is absolutely frightening. Rich red locks splayed untidily on a high forehead,<br>framed with cheekbones you only find in nobles coupled unlikely with slightly slanted eyes which may or  
>may not have been doe-like in her childhood. This is a woman who had all the softness hammered out of<br>her by court-life unlike many the many men who grow obese and soft. Is that why she seemed to have  
>that same sad spark in her eyes?<p>

* * *

><p>"But I'll save her." The old man nods to himself, "Only because I can see a sad spark in her eyes."<p>

The words "sad" and "spark" note my recognition; however I do not understand them.

"Her eyes are closed." The younger man cannot help himself even if his child is dying. "And more  
>importantly how are you going to wake my daughter up?"<p>

"Firstly understand this is a self-sealing curse. As soon as one does or feels the thing he or she has told  
>herself not to the bodily functions seal themselves up and the absolute minimum energy is used to allow<br>the body to stay alive, but never progressing, never aging, never reaching death, only dying."

"Why… Just why did my daughter do such a thing? I mean she was so happy with life." The younger man  
>is bewildered at the older man's statement.<p>

"Why ask me? You should ask your daughter that." The older man shakes his head briefly at the  
>stupidity and naivety of such a statement. "But if the situation is as you said so, she must have activated<br>it as a type of confirmation, a confirmation is she had done or felt something she believed she shouldn't  
>have."<p>

The younger man's eyes pierce my lifeless body in shock.

"That was the reason?" His exclamation is muddled into a question. "That was all?"

His tone grows louder a fiercer tinged with a slight aggression towards the very world whose fault it was  
>not.<p>

"Well," the old man says good-naturedly, "Well that's why I'm here."

* * *

><p>"Well I am here." I add emphasis to "am," "Who else?"<p>

"Oh I don't know," her sarcastic voice cuts across the room, "my husband?"

I gently look away because all her trust which had been placed in that woman has been torn to pieces.

Her mouth makes a little "o" shape and then as if for confirmation: "She's not coming."

And as her look crumbles for an instantly it breaks my heart because she's strong, she's so strong that  
>she will never rely on anyone and for the first time that she decided to rely on someone, the person she<br>believed that would arrive on never came and someone like me ended up arriving instead.

"I…errr volunteered to save you." I try to soften to granite truth with my feather soft lies, but like  
>feathers they are blown away with just a gentle breeze.<p>

"Please, don't it is fine; I guess I'm glad that one person cared enough to…"

No you're not.

Definitely, that face I can barely see is not one of gladness.

"You are – "I interrupt and become interrupted.

The guard finally notices the double voices so with a hushed voice I explain:

"I must away." As I slowly stand up.

I reach for the windowpane which is only visible because the moonbeams are reflecting ever so daintily from.

"That makes you sound like an idiot, just get out." Her blunt words have charm to them.

So I jumped down from the third floor, in full armor. The landing was not pretty, but luckily I am blessed  
>with the protection of the fairies and I believe I had just gone through an almost fatal battle. So as soon<br>as I stand up I run and embrace the darkness as my friend, slowly binding my time until I am able to  
>strike a fatal blow. But as I run I notice that the lump on my head, a remnant of my battle with the lady of<br>a red dragon still hurts.

* * *

><p>"How am I going to wake up our sleeping beauty?" The older man sighs childishly as if he is the greatest<br>magus in the world. "Well, I am going to cast a block into her memories."

"And that will cure her right?" He eagerness of the younger man shows much he loves the lifeless body I  
>only just barely realize is mine.<p>

"No, it's only a temporary measure, a temporary measure against something that is eternal." The  
>childishness is gone and replaced with again with a sage-like seriousness. "The memories of human<br>beings can never be lost. To forget something is to drive it into obsolescence. Memories are never lost  
>rather they are debris that fade away with time which means the fact that they are not eternal makes<br>them eternal because eternity must be returned, so even if you happen to forget it, it has undoubtedly  
>been recorded inside you which is why the only thing that can be called eternal in this world is the<br>human memory."

The younger man pulls a face of half understanding: "Isn't a memory just a recall of an event?"

A soft fire blazes in the older man's eyes: "Your misconception is that memories are created when your  
>life is over. The truth is your life is added on only after all your memories have been created. Therefore<br>there are no memories that should be forgotten. As for the memories discarded by the personality, it  
>was the owner of those memories that wanted to be rid of them. And that's why what you wish for her<br>will be nothing more than a recording of oblivion. Is that really okay with you?"

"Well of course I mean I cannot do anything else, can I?" The younger man understands the  
>consequences of the older man's solution.<p>

"You can wait for her; you can wait for a time where she no longer feels as she did and then… then she'll  
>wake up." The fire in the well-like eyes are steadily grow brighter and brighter.<p>

"I'll be dead, I have no time to wait for a prince to save this sleeping beauty. I love my daughter. She is all  
>I have left. I want us to live together." The younger man looks at the lonely pear tree unmoving in the<br>sea of grass.

"That is just self-satisfaction. You just don't want to be lonely." The old man doesn't accuse because he  
>has also been in this dilemma.<p>

"Neither does she. I am sure my daughter doesn't want to be lonely like that. No one does after all." The  
>younger man says so to convince himself most of all. And his right, even if I do not understand what he<br>said, he is right, because such an expression on his face, such an expression of pain and longing, it's a  
>face that wants to best for his child. His child is his only remembrance of her; therefore, moreover, he<br>has to be right.

"At least you aren't lying to yourself." The old man's childishness comes back the instant his eyes are  
>filled with starlight and pure energy courses through his body and reaches its zenith.<p>

* * *

><p>At the zenith of the sun I arrive. In an instant, without caring, I smash open the doors leading to the castle.<br>In my hand is a battering ram coated and strengthened with my prana. Such wooden doors no matter  
>how well built are nothing compared to a divine mystery. So with no care about the people that decide<br>to surround me I stride into the throne room of a knight.

This was a predetermined fight, the instruction I have given her to give to that despicable knight. So no trap  
>doors or goaler would get in my way. I drop the gigantic battering ram I stole from his armory and<br>confront the man who stole her. The man is big, big and beefy, he is man who relies on brute strength  
>because he has no need for technique. Seriously who would care for technique if his fist could crush a<br>shield.

"The sun is at it's the zenith, sir." I call only giving my attention to the woman surrounded by guards.

Yes, it's her; the knights soldiers would never touch her no. Not because she's protected but because  
>even if she bounded up like that she'd kill them, she's that type of person, she would execute them on the<br>spot. She's absolutely frightening; there is nothing soft about her after all…

"I prefer to offer you parley. What do you want? Anything Lancelot if you leave this woman in my care.  
>We all know how much the king lends his ear to you. Couldn't you say she's here on her one will?"<p>

"I want to take her back to Camelot. There is nothing you can tempt me with. I will not betray my  
>purpose or my lord and lady."<p>

"Very well," his smug look seems to have declared him the victor, "you are much stronger than me, so  
>please bind your left hand to your back."<p>

She gasps at the outrageous terms.

"No, sir, you are just as strong as I am…" I know he is bluffing but am cut off with an arrow landing at my  
>feet.<p>

"Do it Sir Lancelot du Lac, after all I have archers all aimed at your head." His hand sweeps around the  
>audience who all draw their bows.<p>

I grit my teeth and comply. I have to comply. I won't be given a chance if I don't comply. So I have to  
>even if my chances of victory have dropped dramatically.<p>

With my left hand safely binded behind my back, I draw Arondight and my other weapons instantly  
>become sealed.<p>

Its coloring and gloss makes all those in the audience without bows gasp and I can see their eyes filled  
>with awe of the sword that is the undying light of the lake.<p>

The knight in dreary grey armor draws out a gigantic and mighty claymore and in one step tries to seal  
>my fate with a stroke at the head.<p>

I can't block it. Such a stroke is unblockable with only one hand so I quickly duck, but the tips of my hair  
>are cut when they flew up while I was ducking.<p>

A blade infused with prana. The blade's edge will not dull if the wielder has enough prana to maintain  
>the edge. So it's fine, it's fine to fight like a berserker, it's fine to fight edge to edge, because his sword and<br>mine can both take that pressure.

From that position I strike at his legs with a sweep but I am parried and thrown off balance. He chains  
>that attacks with an overhead slash. Usually an attack that leaves the user open however since I cannot<br>regain my footing to take advantage of that opening it is a devastating attack.

Crash

I end up sprawled onto the ground and again.

Crash.

And again.

Crash.

And again.

Crash.

Rolling.

Crash.

All I'm doing is rolling.

Crash.

It's pitiful.

Crash.

That all I am reduced to is this.

Crash.

Their laughing.

Crash.

The audience is laughing.

Crash.

Laughing at the fool of the play groveling, groveling like the dog I am.

Crash.

But she believes in me. Not because she actually does believe in me, but because I am the only person  
>left for her to believe in, so no matter what she has no choice but to believe in me.<p>

Crash.

I use the momentum of the roll to get into crouching position and wildly swing hoping for a lucky parry.  
>However it just occurs to me that if I miss my head will be go-<p>

* * *

><p>"Sleep peacefully my dear lady." I slightly ( ) light abates.<p>

Sinking. The sensation is sinking.

"I have sealed every memory for this week, she should be fine when she wakes up because she no  
>longer remembers the feeling that sealed herself; however I cannot rid her of the spell, it has become<br>something engraved onto her soul, to damage that would be to damage her being."

Faintly. The fainting feeling is faint.

"What does that mean?"

Voice, seeping, slowly seeping memory. Memory fading.

Why am I in this state?

"She'll enter this state again if she sees, hears, touches, tastes, or smells, anything related to that reason.  
>And this time she won't just end up like a vegetable, she'll die."<p>

Fading. Consciousness that saw everything and never saw anything fading.

Grave voice used to say.

Grave, death, die, die, die. Something that he said. Dying is always a choice.

"So? What do I do?"

What did I do? Do, was it right?

"That's up to you my Lord of Shallot."

And as if abducted by the wind the greatest magus of the land disappears as silently as he arrived to this  
>party in which the lord and a lady of the many-spired Camelot entertain their vessels.<p>

* * *

><p>Light and darkness mix into greyness. Not conscious. Grey sheen, grey like a mirror. Shatter. The<br>shattering. Shards of grey steaming and a me grasping my head in pain. So much pain.

* * *

><p>Clash<p>

Claymore meets longsword with a clash of sparks and the knight is thrown back due to the all-out  
>desperate attack. Again it seems that I am protected by the fairies themselves.<p>

The slice allows me to get back into stance. My blade is horizontal and straight in front of me as if it was  
>a rapier.<p>

"You intend to fight as if your blade was a pigsticker?" The knight gaffs, "Hah, then let it break like one  
>under my sword."<p>

I don't say a word.

I don't need to say a word because I'll let my technique say it all.

It's true; it's true that technique was only created to offset brute strength. But who says that technique  
>cannot surpass strength. It is just like how the imitation can surpass the original.<p>

A sweeping strike once again. The force is like a sea storm threatening to wash away all that is wary. But  
>even in a storm, the rocks always tumble and are beaten but they never broken<p>

Why?

Have you noticed that during a gale the tree that stands tall and strong snaps in an instant however the  
>reeds that are so flexible never break, they only bend. So the moment I assumed such a stance I relaxed all<br>muscles

-because now I can do this.

I run into the storm and double my speed thanks to the extra boost of drawing Arondight and  
>with an action that makes it seem like my sword is bending quickly draw blood from the exposed<br>armpits where his armor's protection cannot reach.

The knight howls in rage but cannot strike at me because I am too close to him so in that moment.

Splat.

It's too shallow.

It wasn't enough with one hand. I did not reach his heart to obtain a clean kill.

My armor creaks as his steel encased knee smashes me away.

He's breathing heavily, very heavily, after all he's almost died.

He looks at the sword in his chest and in one splendid motion takes it out

-and throws it on the ground behind him.

The wound is terrible. His lifeblood is just gushing from it. It must hurt, it must hurt so much. However  
>he's composed, composed and ready to kill in the cold blood. The cuts to his armpits will not affect his<br>ability to smash a knight who has no weapon. There is nothing in this room that is available that I can  
>use for a weapon so…<p>

I AM DEAD.

Step by step my executioner heaves his sword towards me with the encouragement of crowd's jeering.

"Greatest Knight," turned out to be a lie.

"Perfect Knight," turned out to be a falsehood.

Because I can see it in his eyes; I can see Death's eyes. For the first time since I was born I can see the  
>fragility of life and for the first time in my life I really, I really want to say those words.<p>

Not as a knight

-but as a human.

I don't want to die.

But I am going to.

The sword will be raised and it will crush my skull and my brain will be cleaved right into two.

Slowly and steadily with the concentration of a tortoise the sword is raised, aimed and

-I finally notice.

Where did the eyes go?

The eyes that told me my Death was approaching are now gone.

Gone with the rest of his head and instead replaced with an endless gushing stream of red liquid and  
>gently almost like a feather in the wind he falls even though he is such a big man.<p>

The person with her foot atop of his armor is holding Arondight aloft in her hand. Her hard face is  
>coated with the blood of the man she beheaded. There's no expression on her face. This seems like<br>something normal for her. In fact the blood on her face matches her fiery hair. She looks like a goddess  
>of war come down to bring me some sort of bloody salvation.<p>

Her mouth moves but I cannot hear because all my attention is on is the head of the knight she just killed rolling…  
>rolling until it touches the foot of a screaming courtier.<p>

None of the archers move or try to kill. I am sure they had orders to if I had killed their lord however it  
>was this woman who decapitated him. Fear and awe course through their veins as if molten lead.<p>

And there is something I cannot comprehend, simply in this situation comprehension is impossible. It's a  
>warm feeling but it's not the blood strewn all over me. But I just think that this woman is just so sad, she's<br>still the same, the same as that day.

* * *

><p>I turn to the one that is listening to my story in rapt attention.<p>

She slowly swallows and asks: "So you love her that much?"

"Probably from the day I met her."

A glittering from the reflection of the sun sparkles in her eyes.

"I see, so there is nothing left now is there?"

I don't say anything and just sit there in silence under that pear tree.

"When did you fall in love with her?"

It's not a surprising question.

So I answer it, after all I assume all girls love to hear about love.

* * *

><p>I eased my knee to the ground at the High King of Britain King Arthur. He looked so fragile and slight as if<br>a breeze could blow him over. Here he was, the child-king of Britain, but I wasn't looking at him. I was  
>looking at another lady. A lady off in the distance so removed from the King that it was scary. That<br>figure made me so wary that I became scared at how wary I had become.

So proud so strong, a woman who yelled at the world.

Simply because no one in the world ever listened to someone like her.

She had no power at all. After all she was a woman and therefore property of her lord. So let them, her  
>expression said, let them belittle me, let them mock me. I'll stay dutiful, I stay in my station but I'll<br>destroy them, I absolutely prove myself to all those that make a fool out of me.

Yet she looked a bit sad; she only looked sad because she didn't let that emotion through.

She's actually probably trying to just be like everyone else and she would actually be the last person to hurt  
>anyone emotionally or physically.<p>

She understands everything the men are talking about, yet no one cares for her perspective and do not  
>even notice her.<p>

What an empty life.

And at that moment while pretending to listen to the speech of my introduction to the Knights of Round,  
>I understood; I understood that she was something incredibly precious to me. Even if we were strangers<br>that had never even talked, even if we were worlds apart, she was definitely someone I could not afford to  
>lose no matter what.<p>

* * *

><p>"And that's everything isn't it." Her voice seems to exude finality, "thank you for your time."<p>

"I still don't know why you took me here." I try to express my confusion.

"It's fine." She mumbles.

"Do you want me to take you back to the party?" I try to be polite to the girl who struggled so hard to get my story out of me.

"No, I'll be return in a second, you go first milord, I'll just be a moment."

It seems she wants to be alone to gather her thoughts. Well that is to be expected, I am sure she wanted  
>to hear tales of romance but all she ended up listening to were tales of bloodshed. So in my boat of<br>armor I slowly sail always through the sea of grass, away from the island known as a pear tree where a  
>lonely lady resides.<p>

"Remember…"

Only the first word reaches my ear as the rest is swept away from the wind away from the many-spired  
>Camelot.<p>

* * *

><p>"Remember, remember, the pain of heartbreak." My arm reaches for the sun but I cannot grasp it due<br>to the gentle rocking of my vessel.

I can no longer feel my legs or my lower body. I can definitely say that I am dying, so was it really worth  
>it? To remember everything like that? Moreover to remember everything like that from his point of view?<p>

Just this morning I was normally spinning my web in my tower and watching the world with my mirror;  
>then I saw him. I saw the knight they call Lancelot du Lac. And the memories broke the dam the greatest<br>magus in the world had built for me.

He had been warned to never come near this tower.

He had been warned to never come near me.

Yet he still did.

Not because he wanted to see me.

But because he had completely forgotten about me.

Me and the underneath of that pear tree where my heart had been broken.

Indeed, the greatest cruelty of this world is cruelty that is unknown to the one committing such a sin.

I had seen him through the mirror and then I broke the rule and looked outside the window and this is  
>my demise.<p>

So I took the boat with my name carved onto it and sailed down to reach Camelot, hopefully before I  
>died; however it seems I will not make it. That curse… I do not regret it, because like he once told me,<br>death is a bad thing, it's something others can never forgive you for, but that doesn't matter as long as  
>you forgive yourself, therefore death is a choice. And maybe now I understand why Lancelot chose to kill<br>Phelot but not his wife. Maybe now I understand why the woman Lancelot loved killed the knight who  
>kidnapped her. Maybe now I know the reason I sat through hell and listened to Lancelot's stories.<p>

Because with death there is always hope, hope for something new. But that hope is only for the people  
>that are left alive. So even if I can't say I have no regrets, I am not sad and I guess there is an amount<br>of contentment with my life.

So then why did my hand which was so desperately reaching for the sun drop?

Because it died; it died and so will I.

Yes, slowly I will fade into naught, but while I still can feel the sun on my face-

* * *

><p>I do not know why I am stuck in the tower now. For some reason my father decided that I needed to<br>stay here. It's not that bad. I just weave all day and make my own food from the stores. I do not curse my  
>father for this life, simply because it's peaceful. However this is definitely an unchanging place, I know<br>that much because I have a mirror, a mirror that lets me see the outside world but only within a  
>kilometer radius of my tower. I am only allowed to use the mirror to see outside my world because<br>apparently if I look outside with my bare eyes I will die. I am a cursed child, but I do not yell or curse  
>at my fate mainly because I cannot remember who cursed me and why in the first place. They probably had a<br>good reason.

A lone rider and a horse dash through. Not many knights pass through this path; after all there are  
>better roads westward. However this knight<p>

-is so sad that I…

Headache. Headaches fill my head.

What is this emotion?

It's sad I feel sad looking at this knight. From his standard I know that it is Sir Lancelot however why is  
>the figure so sad?<p>

It is as if he is burden by something he can never gain. As if he is missing something from life something  
>that he terribly needs to survive.<p>

I need to call out to him, I need to call out to him and talk to him.

I want to.

For the first time since arriving in this tower I want something and because it is the first time the want is  
>multiplied.<p>

Headache. Headache. Headache. Headache.

"Death is always a choice, not a grand one but…"

Who said that and what was the rest?

Is he worth wast-

Before I know it my head is outside my window and I see him and his horse.

I open my mouth

-and the pain of heartbreak crushes my insides.

My head is pounding not only because of this headache but also because of this heartache.

Why?

And slowly from my small room filled with the webs of weaving I fall into a never ending sea of grass  
>while all the time trying to reach that lonely pear tree.<p>

* * *

><p>It's a lazy day with no movement when I move past the crowds that are spectating at Camelot bay.<p>

A gonadal type boat bearing a cold lady seems to be the largest attraction today.

"Lance, do you recognize her?" The voice of the person I'm escorting is intrigued.

"She has a pleasant face so God in His mercy lend her grace but I believe I would remember meeting a  
>face like that."<p>

Briskly, I turn away and lead the lady I am escorting to her destination.

And thus the knight and the queen grasped hands, and together turned away from the cold, rotting body and to the  
>splendors of their future.<p>

And so with a flourish the curtains of the most tragic love story lift up.


	5. into Assassin: googol

**into Assassin: Googol**

"_Nobody knew the truth. Hassan may have had a unique body, but he had many different souls.  
><em>_The knowledge at the time could not think of multiple personality disorder as an illness.  
><em>_With said definition in modern medical sciences, it was a source of arcane 'power' to Hassan the assassin.  
><em>_He could use the multiple personalities within him to use all kinds of different skills and draw upon their knowledge,  
><em>_confusing their opponents or weaving a web of defense, and kill their opponents with unexpected methods that no one could predict.  
><em>_This is the assassin that Kirei had summoned – 'The Hundred-Faced Hassan'.  
><em>_He is a Servant that had one physical body, but at the same time possessed a thousand different souls."_

_-Assassin, Fate/Zero_

Flowing, as if the town itself was a river, a golden river illuminated by the dying sun.

My time, almost, almost.

Even my thoughts were becoming jumbled because of this exertion however, that had to continue due  
>to the fact it was not my time yet.<p>

That was the only reason why the town was flowing around me.

Amidst the blurs of booths and shop-carts with people and merchandise abound, the only "thing" that  
>was constant was the "thing" that was forever on my tail, never coming one step closer, never falling<br>one step back.

Indeed the object that was chasing me was horrific.

Horrific, too harsh of a word?

Such a beast could only be described as horrific because it could keep up with me, Hassan-i-Sabbah, the  
>thousand faced man that<p>

-a leap and a crashing roll through the marketplace, no weapons, only escape and capture, too many  
>eyes simply too many eyes, for now.<p>

Let those eyes think of us as two street urchins fighting for an unjustly stolen loaf of bread.

Let those eyes think of us as a porter chasing a drunk who could not pay his master.

Even if we are moving at supersonic speeds.

Any of these roles are better than reality.

Any of those characters are characters I am willing to play.

Because the truth hurts.

Because the truth is scary.

And the truth remains that

-I was being chased by a counter-guardian.

* * *

><p>My true identity is the unmoving eternal old man of the mountain, true in the way that I never moved<br>but not true in the way I was old. Even if I am not as extreme as some, the Brotherhood is a warm and  
>welcoming place for me. In fact I believe it was lucky that I was orphaned at birth, because if my parents<br>had decided to keep me… I'm sure they would have ended up floating in some oasis, dead. I am known  
>as the man with a thousand faces but that is misnomers because I have many more than a thousand as I<br>am simply hollow and since I am hollow I can be filled limitlessly.

In the beginning there were two Hassans, well I did not call myself Hassan since I had not earned the  
>name at that time but I will use the name in explanation because it is easier to process. In those days<br>there was Hassan and HASSAN.

Hassan, the male dominant side which wished to rejected everything; reject but wished to obtain.

HASSAN, the female side which was always asleep; she was my hidden impulse to accept everything.

Soon two became four, four became sixteen, and sixteen became two hundred and fifty six and more  
>and more. There was such a large number of personalities inside me that it may have as well been<br>limitless, but right now Hassan is the dominant one; still I have the ability to switch into any other  
>personality at will. All in all they all are me, the only difference is that our priorities are different. This<br>special trait led me to the throne of Alamut without the need for any modifications to my body, but due  
>to that trait even if I have been alone all my life, I have actually never been lonely because I have<br>HASSAN, and HaSSAN and HaSsAN and HASsaN and the rest. But I believe the largest curse that was  
>placed onto my existence has to be the fact that since I knew the natures of humans from a young age,<br>all I can see is their absolute ugliness. It's a view that which disgusts me however since it was a truth  
>that I saw every day… I slowly began to accept it.<p>

* * *

><p>Three Darks are thrown to slow him down. These Darks are the official weapon of the Brotherhood;<br>every member is more than proficient, and the Hassan-i-Sabah? Why I'm the most proficient of them all.  
>Only Hassan-i-Sabah can truly bring out the potential of these darks. So the darks that I throw<br>themselves transform into streams of darkness, unseen and unheard until they strike. Yet,

"Hah."

A divine wind knocks the darkness away in an instant.

This is the power of a counter-guardian. Knives that should have instantly killed are blocked like nothing.  
>Yes, this is the power of a being that can overturn "fate" itself. It's humbling to fight a being like this. My<br>hand goes in my pockets for a few more darks to ward him off so I can make my escape. A small, hard,  
>cool ball of resin brushes my hand.<p>

No.

Don't think about it.

That's the resin of the hashish grown from a reality marble in the heart of the mountain fort, Alamut. It  
>destroys the mind to multiply activity in the magic circuits. It's a tradeoff that is accepted everyday by<br>members of the Brotherhood. However I cannot do such a thing, well I can however all my personalities  
>would go haywire and eventually I break down.<p>

How do I know this?

About a hundred of my personalities died when I first used this reality marble created hashish. Nothing  
>else happened, they just stopped existing. I have no idea why, but they all faded in naught. But the<br>breakdown I had when HASSAN became conscious was…

I-

I really don't want that to ever happen again, no matter what type of boost it allows the body. Yet this is  
>a counter-guardian, not a mere phantasmal beast… So we still run, we run through this city. I hope to<br>escape and run away back all the way to Alamut and have the whole forces go against this "Beast of  
>Alaya" and even so we may lose.<p>

But there is no other option, after being targeted by a counter-guardian; the only guarantee is that one  
>will be wiped out. But I'm not one. We are one but we are many, so therefore I will not die. I will<br>become empty, which is why I must run.

* * *

><p>Slowly the world becomes cloaked in darkness and along with the pinpoints of light that shows the<br>travelers the way to a destination, I am here, collapsed onto the top of a dune with my life fading away. I  
>haven't escaped at all. All I have is earned a respite. He is close, the man that is darker than my legend<br>will arrive soon and still I don't know the reason I am being chased. All I am is a simple assassin. I am not  
>a magus seeking the Root nor am I a being that has almost destroyed the world andor put humankind  
>in danger.<p>

So why?

Why am I being judged like this?

Wearily I look up only to see the moon blackened by such a menacing figure with his hand clasping a saif,  
>gleaming and beautiful, which makes my darks look like mere toys. No sound is made and the bright<br>moon reappears once again.

Where did he go?

It was only a few seconds…

I thought my presence concealment was perfect but it seems that I was wrong because a divine wind  
>comes down towards my back and I can feel the trillion units of prana upon me. This is the…<p>

* * *

><p>Damn Hassan and his damn counter-guardian, damn them for switching to me of all people. Since I am<br>the most nimble of the personalities I easily dodge the damn clumsy strike. It was only damn half-hearted  
>because the damn man underestimated me.<p>

Never do that.

I spit onto the ground aggressively.

Yea, if that stupid counter-guardian wants to fight then I'm just have to take him down.

Sure, I'm supposed to be heading towards Alamut and I do want to because every fiber in my body tells  
>me to do so. Yet my priority is to take down this "cleaner" who underestimates me.<p>

Firstly I extend the distance between us to one suitable for my blades but not suitable for his.

Sure while running he deflected all my darks, but that wasn't "me," that was "Hassan". I can better  
>utilize specific parts of this body of "mine."<p>

In one smooth motion slivers of darkness blot out even the starlight. They do not aim to weaken or  
>maim but rather to kill. Every one of those darks is aimed to kill in one touch.<p>

"Saif al Alaya."

A disinterested voice seeps into the very sands as pure darkness falls to the raw power of nature. This  
>scene in front of my eyes is unbelievable; the wind that is channeled by this janitor is so amazing that,<br>damn, I don't have any chance. Affronted with the wind that passes judgment, my mystic trait cannot  
>help me. Damn even all the forces of Alamut are nothing compared to that attack.<p>

Damn it all, my head is filled with new ominous thoughts that are fiery enough to set my skull on fire.

Damn this powerless feeling.

D…A…M…N.

And yet,

even if I'm scared,

even if I'm so paralyzed,

even if I want to run away right this instant,

why am I running into the maelstrom headfirst, shouting curses at the wind?

* * *

><p>A deep and dark cave, a place to lick my wounds and mourn the passing of so many souls, is where I lay<br>checking the luck until I am able to become a librarian with access to all my stored knowledge. However  
>I have never been lucky and that fact coupled with how memory is stored within the soul and those<br>souls are now departed, I am only able to draw upon fragments, but what terrible fragments they were:

The crushing pressure of the vacuum,

a whirlwind of sand,

a hopeless charge,

my fist clashing with his sword and the necessary constant changes of personalities hoping that  
>someone, anyone here could win. But his power was overwhelming, so overwhelming that… just to<br>escape.

I shudder at the obscene thought.

One of "me" must have decided to use the forbidden hashish and because of that I have barely have a  
>recollection of anything until "I" woke up. The soul records the memory therefore when my<br>personalities died so did all the memories. This is the true reason I am so against using that hashish; I'm  
>scared of not just losing those memories but also having them never existing in the first place because<br>the souls that observed those events are now gone. And if one hundred personalities just died, then a  
>thousand memories have been eradicated.<p>

I smile grimly to myself as I nod my head at the phrase "licking my wounds."

But that man with the cloak darker than my own and the sword that sparkles unlike my darkness will  
>find me soon.<p>

Fear strikes the heart of Hassan-i-Sabbah as he realizes those are "my" own words.

* * *

><p>I do not know where that counter-guardian is, he could be ahead of me, behind me, or even both;<br>therefore, all the safe houses are no longer safe and the world has become my enemy. All I can do is run  
>and hide in places with no people, or with so many people that one person cannot be found. The<br>consequences are that I have to sleep without a fire to keep me warm or to cook my food. I merely eat  
>meager berries, dates, and memories from a time when I was the hunter, not the hunted.<p>

And here I am drifting through the low-class town where the towers are caked in dirt and the dirty little  
>men that roam around as if scurrying like rats searching for scraps of anything and everything. This town<br>is the how the poor lowlife lives and…

In one moment the pregnant tension bursts and showers all the poisonous wastes over this tiny "world".  
>Right in front of me once again was the man clocked in a colour darker than black wielding the saif that<br>could cut the winds themselves. What was more irking was the fact that he was not looking down on  
>those lowlifes as if they were lowlifes; rather he looked upon them as equals, but only looked at me like<br>I was something worthless, so worthless that I was only worth killing.

But no matter how angry I got, my legs threaten to buckle under the pressure of a trillion units of prana,  
>slowly radiating from his figure, but I am no mere member of the Order; I am HaSSAN-i-Sabbah, not a<br>man but a legacy and therefore:

"Why, why are you chasing me?" I have a feeling that this will be our first and final conversation.

"I am a cleaner and you are something that needs to be eliminated."

How could I have been so blind? This beast is literally a "cleaner," someone that cleans up the pus after  
>the boil has been popped. Therefore something must have happened. He's merely sterilizing the wound,<br>not protecting the unbroken skin from the fall.

Therefore in the eyes of the world I am not a danger, but a fugitive running after committing some  
>heinous crime. However, I haven't done anything.<p>

"Why," I start to ask a very open question. "What is my sin?"

The counter-guardian laughs, the first time I have heard or seen any emotion from him at all.

"Sin? Your existence itself is a sin."

I don't understand.

Those words that come out of his mouth are those I could not possibly understand.

To understand those words means and agree with what they mean is to…

I can't do that.

We can't do that.

So the only option is clear.

Run, run for my life. Even if I look like one of those lowlifes, I need to run away, somewhere far,  
>somewhere the World cannot find me. Somewhere I am no longer HaSSAN-i-Sabbah but...<p>

-that momentary fantasy is crushed by the whirlwind that is his sword.

He is a cleaner for Humanity; it doesn't matter to him that we are standing in a crowded marketplace  
>with the very humans he serves. He'll just destroy everything in his path to complete that goal he was<br>called to do by Humanity. Even if humans have humanity, Humanity has no humanity for humans that  
>try to disrupt it or even get in the way of it.<p>

Truly a cruel paradox.

So my only option is to let my eyes slightly tighten at the change of personality I undergo and…

If there is no way to win, all I have to do is run straight forward. Many of the other personalities call me  
>optimistic because of that however...<p>

-I'm sure I can win.

Yes, it's the belief that I can prevail over anything. After all I am an orphan who has no bonds that cage  
>my heart and soul to this earth. I am a free spirit.<p>

So with that in mind and the airy feeling in my heart I propel myself, with hashish in mouth, straight  
>against the air current known as "fate."<p>

* * *

><p>No.<p>

Don't.

No.

The world is ablaze, just like that day so long ago.

Just like the day this World decided to actualize Her supreme reality marble.

Ever since that day She has been fighting, first to survive and then later on fighting to end Her life on Her  
>own terms.<p>

Under this skeletal mask I feel tears welling up for the first time, the fate of this world called "Gaia" is  
>just too sad.<p>

Too sad for any living creature with any semblance of a connection with Her to know.

Even so, humans hoard and destroy.

Truly, if there was something that was "evil" in this world, it would be the collective human experience,  
>the entity known as "Alaya" which I happen to be a part of.<p>

However, there is a part of me that is not attached to it but attached to something darker.

It's there, much like a single red ribbon among a sea of white ribbons, but even if it is swamped and  
>barely visible, it's there. There and so precious to my existence that without it… well let's say it's like a<br>keystone.

In the midst of a Midsummer day-dream I suddenly realize.

Where am I? Shouldn't I be fighting a counter-guardian?

* * *

><p>"Your mistake is believing that memories are only added after you have lived your life, rather your life is<br>only added after all your memories."

Words that I have never heard and will never hear float through my mind as so many of my compatriots  
>die. Because my name is HAssaN-i-Sabbah I cannot bear so many of my souls fading into naught only to<br>maintain my actions right now.

And what pitiful actions they are.

I sail through the air as that is the only action I am allowed. If I want to protect the body that we all  
>share then I must run. Even if I have to let a few of the personalities die.<p>

The whirlwind flings stores and houses apart. The raw power of nature shreds everything that is human  
>made. The windows crack and the houses are turned upside down and then like everyone knew, like<br>everyone dreaded, like everyone hoped against, even if from the bottom of their heart they understood

-a single spark is fanned and grows into an inferno.

All it took was a stove which was left because the residents felt the winds.

That was all it took to turn this wasteland in a blazing inferno.

Did that man feel guilt?

Why should he? His duty is to Humanity and the continued existence of humans, nothing else.

Did I feel guilt?

Why should I, my duty is to my body and the souls that inhabit it, nothing else.

And that is the reason that I'm fighting so hard to retain consciousness while this hashish is in my  
>bloodstream revving my magic circuits so wildly that they could snap at any instant.<p>

As each minute passes the tiny world becomes more dangerous as the blaze gets larger and larger,  
>fanned by his attacks. I have no options left, I can either stop moving and let him kill me, letting the<br>inferno slow down or I can run around aimlessly like I have been doing and let the whirlwinds fan a blaze  
>that will burn me to crisp.<p>

Either way I am dead.

For the good of the body, all "I" can do is

-Why am I fadi...

* * *

><p>Why is the world red?<p>

My last memory is approaching a town, so why instead standing in the middle of a town and facing an  
>inferno?<p>

I shake my head as so many questions just run through my brain.

But before they can fully run their course an edge runs through the air headed straight for my neck  
>which I have no hope of blocking, parrying, or dodging.<p>

But Death is stayed by the one wielding it.

Why did he stop before he killed me?

His eyes aren't facing me but rather

-facing the seven street urchins that have nowhere else to go other than here.

A brief spark of recognition runs through his eyes and that is all the opening I need.

I take the only dark that is coated in hashish and throw it at his rib-cage.

The shot is a lousy one but it is an attack that will kill. The aim is to make the drug enter his bloodstream  
>and overload his magic circuits with his own prana reserves thereby killing him. Therefore it doesn't<br>matter if the shot is a lousy one, it's a one hit one kill attack.

But the Beast of Alaya doesn't move.

His magic circuits don't overload.

He just stands there, pivots slightly, and then looks into my eyes.

HIS EYES FEEL AS IF THEY ARE PIERCING THROUGH MY MASK INTO MY SOUL.

He prepares all the prana that humanity is willing to grant him.

Yes his magic circuits are overloading, however there is just so much output that it insures the circuits  
>themselves will not overload, not yet at least, not until he remains static for a few seconds.<p>

Rage.

His not angry at me, his angry that he let himself be caught up with his past, whatever that was, so now  
>he's letting all that emotion crash into me.<p>

The pillar of wind that is created reaches the sky and slowly takes in the inferno becoming a firestorm.  
>With one strike this whole town will become leveled and me with it.<p>

Why did HassAn-i-Sabbah ever believe that he could content with this monster?

To face a Beast of Alaya is to die.

To merely see one is to see your thirteen steps to the gallows.

So yes, this is the moment the hunter which became the hunted becomes the meat.

This is an inevitability that I knew was going to happen ever since I finished that mission and found this  
>man watching me.<p>

But there is just one thought that really annoys me.

Why did I run if I knew this was going to happen?

* * *

><p>The sword is swung and is stopped once again and I notice that I have a child in my arms. He is merely a<br>street urchin, one of the few that

-with a sense of foreboding I look back at where the children were standing and count the bodies  
>smoldering quietly.<p>

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

They are all there.

So who is the boy in my arms that I am using as a meatshield?

Quickly I try to roll through my memories searching for what happened however that personality  
>probably did his or her job then vanished.<p>

Headache.

HASSAn was correct, to maintain a state where one is conscious while intoxicated with this hashish is  
>indeed possible however, just standing here and watching everyone that was so important to me fade<br>into the terrible darkness is just… it's too…

But that doesn't solve the problem with the child in my hands who is no more than a six year old male.  
>Again I am not an extremist so I try not the get innocents involved in my business; after all they are<br>innocent and deserve to live. And, more so, HASSAN would rebel against me if she knew I was...

-I stop, and notice the gigantic hole in my heart.

When I truly see it I want to double down, double down and cry so much.

She's gone.

The very reason that the personality even tried to grab this boy who probably happened just to be  
>walking around hoping to find an escape or a place to die is because she died.<p>

Died? No she has disappeared and has left no remains.

I look forward with the soot covered boy in my hands.

My name is Hassan-i-Sabbah, and I have lost the person closest to me.

I have lost the person that I have spent my whole life with.

And even if I am the side of the personality that rejects everything…

There are something things that even "I" wish to retain.

And so with all the courage that I can muster

-I look into that Beast's eyes while holding that child.

MY EYES PIERCE THAT MASK INTO HIS SOUL.

A sense of longing.

A forgotten dream.

The wish for…

He crumbles to the ground because his magic circuits merely fizzled out. He was rapt in indecision for  
>too long whether to destroy both of us or to spare us and finally his magic circuits overloaded like I said<br>they would.

It's fine though, a counter-guardian is usually a person who has died a long time ago. I am sure he will  
>just return to the Throne of Heroes or the Astral Plane waiting for the next time he is summoned by Humanity.<p>

I drop the boy in my hands who even though was conscious simply rolled onto the ground.

"Ha." And here begins the second conversation, the one I believed we would never have, between the  
>counter-guardian and myself.<p>

"I've lost something important." I admit to him.

"Then if I give you something important it'll be equal."

I smile cynically at the Beast who tried to kill me so much: "Sometimes that doesn't work out."

"Sounds like something a person who existence is a sin would say." He tries to match my tone in his last  
>moments in this world.<p>

"And what is that sin?"

He breaths in one last breath.

"You're a damn unregulated path to Akasha."

And with that last word his body disappears as if disintegrated by the inferno.

He wasn't a bad person. I know that because even if he killed so many people he spared that one boy.

He was a killer. I know that because even if he killed so many people he spared that one boy.

Still his gruff world-weary voice contained or once contained in it the naivety of a child trying to chase a  
>dream.<p>

And as his darker than black cloak starts to fade into naught I notice that part of the cloak stays with the  
>saif serving as a marker for the place he felled himself. Such a scene is beautiful, the pure blackness<br>reflecting from the starlight of the blade. Yesterday, I would have reached such a sword without thought  
>and been reprimanded by HASSAN for cutting off the boy's hand which is holding onto the saif so tightly.<br>But today I hesitate; first because of the gigantic gap in my heart but also because-

"Boy what is your wish?"

Not a voice, such a primal weight cannot be called mere sound but an awareness, a cosmic awareness  
>that threatens to sunder all comes from the sword directing the suggestion.<p>

The boy's eyes which were shut so closed begin to stir.

"( )"

Such a confident voice comes from such a weak boy.

And right in front of my eyes was the birth of a counter-guardian.

In one swing of the sword the fires all blew out. Of course one cannot turn back time and he could not  
>save those who have already died, but truly this boy and this consciousness saved everything that was dying or<br>about to die.

"A miracle is not paid back with nothing. In return boy you must destroy this one."

Alaya tries to direct the boy towards me, however I was already gone.

* * *

><p>Puffing and panting I hold onto the tree for a respite.<p>

Even if "I" have only been up for two hours, this body has been awake for a whole week. It's very  
>possible actually, since exhaustion is primarily mental, I keep switching personality when one gets<br>exhausted, therefore even if my body is tired my mind does not believe it is tired and continues on.  
>However that is extremely dangerous to my body. After all it hasn't had any rest since I ran away from<br>that new counter-guardian.

But I believe I am one up because that boy has just become a counter-guardian, and also because I am  
>close to Alamut, I am close enough that I can see it. Only a couple of hours of running and I will arrive.<p>

But for now, even if I don't want to, I have to res-

The darkness is welcoming; it washes everything away and binds these eyes that have seen so much. I  
>look around at myself and realize there aren't that much of me anymore. But that's fine since I can<br>always make more.

Can I?

Because even if I gain more they will never be the same as the personalities as before.

Even if they are modeled in exactly the same way, they will be different.

And how does that make me feel?

Empty.

As empty as this tiny space where none of the personalities dare touch.

To touch that place is to touch death; "we" all know that.

So is that the path to Akasha the former counter-guardian was talking about?

I "grin" wirily.

I should have asked him for his name.

* * *

><p>Cold metal is touching my neck but still "I" am very calm. Without opening my eyes I speak from the<br>skull mask in a slow and comforting voice:

"You won't kill me will you?"

He doesn't answer.

"After all, you've never killed anything and you also don't want to kill anything."

He stays silent.

"You want to save everything after all."

Still no sound.

"You're one of those people who want to save both the tyrant and the subject right?"

I don't know why he still isn't answering so I open my eyes.

I look up at the night sky.

In it is the figure of cold-hearted Death who is looking down at me as I lay miserably on the ground.

The wind blows through this sand entrapped landscape and with no clouds to block the spiral sky, the  
>moon offers her blessing.<p>

The falling moonlight and that child's face:

This is the person who survived the inferno that no one else survived, became a counter-guardian and  
>chased me here without any trouble.<p>

His dark pupils reveal nothing.

And slowly he says for the first time.

"This is your end, silent killer."

The point of the inherited saif shines brilliantly.

I look up at the moon, accepting my death after all there's no time for me to flee or plead for my life. I  
>will die here and Hassan-i-Sabbah's reign will end after three years.<p>

There is only emptiness in my heart that I myself have caused and I am sure I will bear this boy a grudge.

But still I am completely calm.

Losing her must have really affected me.

Even though right now I am able to die

-I throw my whole body at him.

And I am thrown back by a wall of wind.

If this is a World that wishes to end things on Her own terms, then I am exactly the same.

Slowly I stand up as the sandy dust curls around my feet and slowly take a ball of hashish and place it in  
>my mouth.<p>

Swallow.

In an instant half the remaining personalities are wiped out without a whimper.

In an instant I am blown back once again.

As soon as I stand up half the remaining personalities are wiped out with a whimper.

As soon as I stand up I am blown back even further.

We all though this boy would be inexperienced and weak.

We were all wrong.

His resolve and strength are boundless compared to the other counter-guardian.

As soon as I stand up I am thrown back.

As soon as I stand up I lose half the remaining personalities again.

I am not even allowed to advance one step.

All I am allowed is to lose.

Lose myself.

Lose my life.

Until...

-I am the only one remaining.

The hashish has no more personalities to take away.

All there is me, HAssan-i-Sabbah.

Therefore it doesn't matter if I repeatedly get beaten down.

It doesn't matter if I am not the dominant personality in the body because I can win; I can win because  
>"Hassan" switched with me last moment.<p>

He, of all of us, wouldn't have sunken into naught unless he knew I would win because Hassan knows  
>more than any of us how scary death is. He's the only one who knows how dark and horrifying it is<br>because he's the one that has to carry every killing "we" commit and every casualty "we" sustain. We,  
>roots of him, can just withdraw into our corner of the mind, but he can't. So if Hassan willingly let himself<br>die so I would survive then-

I run prana through my breaking magic circuits and activate the switch that turns this body in a weapon.

Crack.

The sound of a muffled gunpowder shot rings through "my" brain as the hammer goes down.

If the reality marble created hashish is able to increase our prana output five-fold then I would be  
>packing a hundred units of prana. But that is pale in comparison of the trillion that boy holds. However<br>he cannot utilize all that in one go.

Therefore...

-I infuse my dark with prana until it is about to break and charge.

The force of his wind wall is astounding.

I cannot believe that Hassan actually took five of these.

Just taking one of these makes "my" already breaking bones creak.

I raise my hand grasping the prana infused dark and thrust it right in the middle of the invisible "wall"  
>and let all the prana explode.<p>

It hurts.

My left hand is ripped off at the wrist as the explosion breaks a hole in the wall large enough for me to  
>go through.<p>

The theory was that the wall was constructed with a thousand units of prana because the number of  
>magic circuits needed to create that much is astounding in itself. Since the wall was one thousand units<br>each section must have been less than a thousand, merely a fraction of the whole so to speak. A hundred  
>units of prana should be enough to break through a tenth of the wall. And it did, with the sacrifice of my<br>left arm, but sacrifices are necessary, actually, if this is the final sacrifice for killing this counter-guardian  
>then it was worth it.<p>

Nimbly I take the final dark in my possession from my back pocket and instead of throwing, thrust it into  
>the "Beast's" hear-<p>

Red

Why is my chest red?

I'm bleeding.

I see the gleaming starlight reflecting off the blade stuck inside my chest.

I turn my head a little and notice my left palm without fingers.

I swivel my head back at the six year old boy that passed judgment on me with the wind.

My head quickly slumps down.

It's fitting that I die prostrated in the shadow of the great mountain fort of Alamut.

But even so why am I smiling?

Is it because in my last moment I notice that he looks like an eagle?

Or is it…

* * *

><p>A narrow road.<p>

I turn around and notice nothing other than this narrow road in my surroundings.

In the distance, at the end of this road I see something.

I have no idea what it is so I run towards it.

But as I run towards it I notice that someone is running towards me.

His posture is clumsy and his running is not very fast, as if he is not used to actions but soon enough we  
>meet<p>

and unconsciously I raise my hand.

Is it because he raised his hand?

Our hands clap for an instant as if I am passing the baton onto him and I am reassured.

So reassured that I smile even if I am sure no one else can see this smile.

I smile because I know that "he" of all Hassans will take care of everything.

So I, HAssan-i-Sabbah, keep running down this narrow road until I find everyone else.

* * *

><p>-Suddenly I open My eyes<p>

It's been a while.

I look into the boy's eyes and as I am about to re-create reality.

Off with My head.

He was prepared,

so slowly I sink back into naught.

Naught is the very source of my chaotic impulse.

Therefore to gain and feel something, even for a second, I am very satisfied.

* * *

><p>The eagle featured boy does not clean the sword because this is a sword that will not rust no matter<br>how dirty it gets. He decides to bury the body; after all it is the first person the eagle featured boy has  
>killed. The eagle featured boy is perplexed though: was what appeared in the last second what his<br>master feared? The eagle featured boy is not sure because all he saw in the man's eyes the moment he  
>killed him was sadness, sadness and loneliness, but the eagle faced boy knows that he saved a lot of<br>people tonight, and that's enough.

"That's drug he used is dangerous, eliminate its source."

The eagle featured boy nods at the new orders that come from Humanity itself.

While the former Hassan-i-Sabbah's blood drips, staining the sand crimson, the eagle featured boy walks  
>to the castle fort of Alamut to destroy the treasure so many that have climbed its walls have died for. All<br>the while stained in his mind:

"Boy, what is your wish?"

Amidst the blazing inferno he made his decision, a decision he could not turn his back on.

It was a decision that may damn him later in life.

It was a decision that would take him the depths of human depravity.

It was a decision that would turn him into the "Dog of Alaya."

However right now in his mind, the eagle featured boy's words kept repeating themselves as if a mantra.

"I, want to be a hero of justice."


	6. into Caster: hopeless Harbinger

**into Caster: hopeless Harbinger**

"_Once upon a time, I committed the blackest sacrilege, the most vile, the most foul thing a man could ever do. Ryūnosuke, the sins  
>you have committed are nothing more than child's play in comparison. But no matter how many I killed, no matter how sinful I<br>became, no punishment from God descended on me. By the time I had noticed, I had walked down the road to Hell for eight years.  
>The harrowing screams and the mournful wails of thousands of children were lost in the nihilistic darkness!"<em>

_-Caster, Fate/Zero_

-Crash.

First a gasp of shock then tears.

To be fair these tears aren't for the beautiful crystalline chalice that spilled lush red wine onto that diary.  
>No, these tears are selfish tears, tears of self-pity and fear; fear of the man that was rarely home; the<br>man who was so large and foreboding that not just me but all the household servants were fearful of him,  
>even my stern mother became a blubbering girl at the sight of him. But I couldn't understand why they<br>feared him so much. Indeed he was a menacing man but I am sure he was only so menacing because he  
>was lonely, so I tried to give him affection, the only type of affection a ten year old child could give a<br>person - a face full of smiles, flowers and light; however he rejected all of that. I was so sure he was  
>lonely that I did not understand that maybe he liked that feeling, he liked being lonely.<p>

Why would anyone like being lonely?

Because if he was the only one, the only one no one understood, wouldn't that make him the most  
>powerful?<p>

Of course it was only in his eyes.

He was the one that bore the burden, whatever burden that was, and he believed that tempered him,  
>and made him strong.<p>

And on that day I learnt my father was not a nice man; no, he was a power-hungry man and that was the  
>reason I knew there would be a punishment, not a reprimand but a punishment to humiliate me and<br>show both of us that I was beneath him. He could never believe in reprimanding to teach me, he's just not that sort  
>of person. Therefore I was crying over spilt wine, exasperated at fate which seems completely pathetic.<p>

Thump.

The steps get louder.

Thump.

The pressure of those footsteps starts to overwhelm me.

Thump.

The tears drop wetter and harder.

Until

A warm hand grasps my hands wet from trying to dry these tears. I obey the slight pressure of the hand  
>and the fragrance of the woods flows through the air as if a window has been opened. It's a warm hand,<br>slightly longer than mine. Nimbly the hand opens a previously locked window and a breath of fresh air  
>suddenly drifts in rummaging papers and trifles around as if a whirlwind swept through the room.<p>

* * *

><p>Rushing trees give the sense of movement along the deep and winding road to Machecoul. Weary eyed,<br>I begin to wonder about the daughter I left in Bouin. I hope that she is well and that she knows her  
>mother is very sorry about undertaking this endeavor and furthermore plus more importantly that I love<br>her who is precious to me.

Slowly rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I pick up a stained duodecim. Its elegant cover has been soiled  
>by a dried substance and some of the pages have wrinkled. This is my only inheritance from my father. I<br>flip through the pages and open to a fresh, crisp one while holding a fresh fountain pen. A neigh and a  
>bump then my head responds by looking outside the carriage. It's a nostalgic view, a view that has not<br>changed since that day.

Smiling briefly I leaf through the diary to read my father's account of that day. Oh how angry he was and  
>then how…<p>

* * *

><p>Puffing and panting from running through the field, I did not look at the boy's face because I knew who<br>it was and eventually after running through the windblown grass we reached the same destination we  
>always reach, a dilapidated shack in the middle of a sea of grass which was used as a gigantic tool shed<br>before a new one was built in the serf's quarters. Now it serves as a secret rendezvous for the sons of a  
>knight and the daughter of a lord.<p>

Quietly the stalwart hand pushes open the door and…

A wonderland of children's scribbles appears before my eyes. Colorful markings, made by homemade  
>paint and charcoal, litter the walls, and in one corner, as if drowning in a sea of books, sits a boy<br>intensely reading.

"Rene!"

The boy that was holding my hand quickly runs over and brushes the other boy's sunshine curls.

"Brother, stop touching my hair."

The boy who held my hand turns to me and almost in relief I sigh at that never changing face. His face  
>seems as if it is branded with a rouge-like smile that incessantly annoys his grandfather but I find it<br>charming. I never told him that though. Such a statement would probably introduce some amount of  
>awkwardness in our happy, innocent, but static relationship.<p>

His darker curls make a great compliment to his brother's; however hair color is never indicative of  
>disposition.<p>

Rene was the sunshine angel, pious and always studying, the best of sons and his brother, the great  
>joker, the wild child. Rene felt an obligation to his parents who wandered into heaven; he wanted to live<br>to their teaching. His brother on the other hand simply wished to live, in all of life's glory and luxury. And  
>I?<p>

I was simply dragged along for the ride.

"Rene we're going to the creek, you coming?"

Rene shook his head; he never participated in our tomfoolery. He deemed it a rebellion against the  
>ghosts of his parents looking down on him in heaven; therefore he judged his brother as a sinner.<p>

"Do what YOU want mon frère, after all it doesn't matter to you anymore."

"C'est la vie," and with a shrug and the door let out a slow, lazy light, very appropriate since it is summer  
>and as I walked out of the shanty. I wistfully compared Rene to my father. They are similar but Rene is<br>chasing a redemption for the sake of being redeemed even if he did nothing wrong. My father on the  
>other hand he is just the personification of lust for power. So even if they walk different paths…<p>

-will they end up at the same destination?

And more importantly my final thought after I closed the door behind me:

"What would Rene be like when he grows up?"

* * *

><p>Under the dim glow of the tallow candle light I pull my hair into a bun and slowly bring up my hood to<br>hide my face. The movement is done reluctantly because even if I know that vanity is sinful I cannot stop  
>to admire how much I have changed. This person staring back at me cannot be me.<p>

I remember the me that absolutely fretted about going to the ball with milord.

I remember the me that tried so hard to hide my ugly face on my wedding day.

It definitely must be a gift from God that finally at this ancient age, I have obtained a look-able visage…  
>or is that a curse? Of course I cannot not compare myself to the great beauties of the age but the chains<br>which once bound me to the dressing table for hours trying in vain to look even the slightest bit amiable  
>have been broken and for that I cannot help but smile and praise the Lord. While unconsciously brushing<br>my rosary I finally let my hood down and leave my modest room in this modest inn.

I smile in nostalgia while going down the stairs because never in my life would I have considered  
>spending any amount time in a place like this where rats and dirt are found in abundance, neither did I<br>ever expect to be wearing such a modest homespun cloak either, and most enchanting of all is that  
>when I reached the final step I looked upon a brave new world.<p>

Poignant.

The first sense which gathers any sort of information is smell. Even before my eyes accept the scene before me,  
>my nose does. Stale ale is spilled onto the ground. Stale sweat is the fragrance of choice for all the men<br>in this establishment. In fact stale seems to be operative word for this inn simply because there no baths  
>are offered here. Holding my hood tightly over my face I slowly walk, avoiding all touch and tables, to<br>arrive at an appointed rendezvous. Sitting alone is a grey man caged in steel, both as a disguise and a  
>deterrent. Slowly I place myself into the chair opposing him as if we were to test our mettle in a game of<br>chess and look into those non-existence eyes.

"So friend, when do you believe all this fighting will end?"

The long war has already ended with the burning of La Pucelle and those involved. Anyone would  
>disregard him as a madman but to those who know this grey man's true intentions:<p>

"It ends tonight." The ominous accompanying phrase oozes out of my mouth sticky as if honey.

"The lord will attack the church with a gang of bandits for he is in desperate need for money."

My voice is as cold as my eyes should be as I cut though his statement: "I know the houses' financial  
>situation."<p>

"Milady are you sure that you of all people want to do this? After all…"

"The bishop's safety has been guaranteed, there is no one else other than me who should do this, didn't  
>Rene tell you?"<p>

"Indeed milady that man did, however…"

"So hold your tongue, because even if I maybe of the 'lesser' sex but I can hold my own."

He grunts: "If that is what milady wishes I cannot stop you."

Hidden by the hood, my eyes soften at the acceptance of my choice.

"How's Rene?" I ask about the dear childhood friend who never talked to me.

"Grumpy as always, he is a great lord and man, righteous and full of fervor. His subjects adore him  
>because he is fair but hate him because he has no sympathy for them."<p>

"The ideal lord then? I always believed him so. Well may the Lord bless you?" I smile cynically at a  
>predication from so long ago.<p>

"May the Lord bless your gruesome and awesome endeavor?" He concludes the parting.

Slowly I begin to move away towards my next destination that night and just realize I never asked his  
>name.<p>

"May I have your name?" The afterthought is voiced vehemently.

With a flourish he takes off the sallet to reveal a hardened yet still handsome face with blond hair that  
>seems to be flecks of sunshine in the candle light. Even so I cannot see what is so attractive about him or<br>that action.

"Jean, Jean de Vendome, milady."

I smile and wave my hand in farewell between us. This is the first and last time we will meet. He did not  
>ask for my name because Rene possibly already told him that I am called "Milady." That has been my<br>title since birth, my parents called me "daughter," and my own daughter calls me "mama," but everyone  
>else in my life calls me Milady. I do not hate such a title because it's out of endearment, a title given by<br>some foolish boy I ran around with as a child. However I cannot exactly remember why he called me  
>"milady."<p>

* * *

><p>"Milady are you alright?" The boy's dark sparkling eyes wrap me up.<p>

With a desperate reluctance I let go of his hand, put my hands on my knees and start breathing, deeply.  
>Amazing, even if I have no breath to look back how far we had run non-stop, I know it was a great<br>distance and this boy isn't even slightly winded.

"You're pretty amazing you know that?"

He awkwardly scratches his head: "No, it's just that practice makes near-perfect, milady."

I stop breathing short and shallow breaths as I gather up air for deeper breaths and because now the  
>oxygen is finally circulating through my brain, I can gather my thoughts. Milady, the name which he gave<br>me from the first time we met. It wasn't a title to distance, which is ironic because almost every title  
>made by man serves to distance man from his fellows. He used the world as an endearment much like<br>one would use the word friend, or husband. Still the question remains, why that word and no other?  
>Every word has a meaning and every action has an intent; subconscious or conscious. However I do not<br>wish to ask him as such a question which would definitely change the nature of our relationship. My life may  
>not be idyllic but the time I spend with him and Rene, to an extent, is possibly the happiest time of my<br>nine years because when I return home I know I will be scolded by father and then I will be humiliated in  
>front of the whole household without anyone to defend me. But those dark times where it seems the<br>light has left the world are the times which make misadventures like these worth so much more than  
>they seem right now. Happiness may not cancel sadness, but that's good because then sadness will<br>never cancel out happiness which means one can always obtain more and not worry about events  
>fading into naught.<p>

Finally I stand up, rested enough to keeping on walking. I know all I am doing is delaying the inevitable  
>however, why not? Why not delay something so I can have more days of bliss like this? My father always<br>said indecision was a sin, only the lazy decide at the last minute, but I would have to disagree because  
>there is nothing wrong with procrastinating which is born from the genuine wish to extend one's "now,"<br>instead of planning for a "tomorrow" which may never come. So for now I want to have adventures with  
>my friend and I'll continue to do so until the Fates tear us apart.<p>

"My lady, are you rested enough to walk?"

Did he just say "my lady?" Surely he meant "milady," but everything said and mis-said has its intent. So  
>whenever he said milady did he really mean my lady? If so, if not, it doesn't matter, because I decided to<br>let my question fade, like many others, into indecision.

Together we walk on the weathered dirt roads and through the billowing meadows this fine summer's  
>morning reaching our destination and wondering, but not too fervently, what will the future hold?<p>

* * *

><p>Alone I walk on the newly cobbled roads and though the dank alleyways of crime this fine summer's eve<br>reaching my destination and wondering, but not too fervently, why is there a corpse here?

In an instant I know this is not part of my operation because the man I am going to kill does not leave  
>corpses. The body has gashing wounds on all his sides but is covered in a dark black cloak, the perfect<br>complement to the dark alleyway wall he is slumped beneath. I am no expert, only a sheltered lady  
>trying to find closure but I know that this man has been murdered. This was no street brawl or drunken<br>rage, such a death was planned and…

Slowly I lift up his raven black hood.

I-

I know him.

I KNOW HIM I KNOW HIM I KNOW HIM I KNOW HIM I KNOW HIM I KNOW HIM I KNOW HIM I KNOW

He was a person that worked for milord and that means he has everything to do with the operation.  
>Judging from his dark cloak he was probably a child snatcher. I guess enough people got angry enough<br>and killed him with shovels and hoes. Which means…

-I take out a gleaming cold Death from my cloak

The murderers are still here.

I swiftly turn around to face the entrance of this blood soaked alleyway with a material of Death in my  
>hand. This is not my knife but it will serve me anyway. The cross hilt is decorated with fleur-de-lys<br>sparingly and the metal has a darkish tint to it that can only be seen in the clear moonlight.  
>This is a knife that has collected not the glory of the battlefield, but the curses and despair that the<br>losers and those who are cursed to die expelled into the atmosphere. Still this is nothing but a knife so  
>therefore it will do nothing against a mob that holds fire and pitchforks.<p>

Silence, no one arrives and therefore the only thing that can be seen from this narrow alleyway is the  
>ominous blue moon that we tell our children is made out of cheese; however only the slightest crescent<br>can be seen tonight and that edge looks exactly the same as the blade I am carrying. Quietly I put away  
>the knife of curses, after recognizing that there is no one actually here, that is not mine and stroll out of<br>this alleyway of death just as the clouds of this supposedly clear summer's eve cover the sliver that  
>came out to bless all that lived under it.<p>

* * *

><p>Gently he dips the edge into the slightly stagnant water to clean it and I just sit on the rock watching him<br>do so.

"This is the de Rais knife," he says so proudly, the only time I have ever heard him speak kindly of his  
>own family. "I obtained it as my inheritance from my father. It is the same blade that he took with him<br>into battle where he died."

After cleaning off whatever was on the blade he puts it back into this doublet.

"Are you angry, that they killed your father?"

His eyes do not darken for a second; such a gesture makes me accept his explanation: "No, not really,  
>after he died I was able to see what lousy father he was. Even if Rene does worship him as a god he<br>really wasn't that great. Still he was my sire and I guess I have SOME sort of affection for him that keeps  
>me from throwing this knife away though."<p>

I nod because even if I am only nine years old I understand that a noble may be "privileged" however  
>being a noble is cold. My mother and father are much the same.<p>

"I don't really like my grandfather though," he says just to put that out there. "Rather than disciplining  
>us, he simple just does not care about us. I think that's worse than actually hating us in a way. I mean<br>he's already planned my life and my marriage."

"Well, if it's for the good of the family…" I start.

"I know milady, but to grandfather political marriages aren't supposed to cement anything. He just  
>wants more land and more money and whatever reason that is for I do not understand. All I know is that<br>he finds pleasure in the excess and obtaining more and more. More importantly he only cares that he  
>obtains power, he has no allies only an abundance of enemies, yet like an insane man he likes that. That<br>is what I cannot accept. What sort of man likes to be hated?"

I think of my own father. He seems to be exactly the same man. Therefore I can understand the  
>sentiment. But I cannot shake the thought that our beliefs are only what they are because we are<br>children, children that see the world in ideals not reality.

"Maybe one day we'll change and become what we hate. What will we do then?"

He simply looks at me his dark pupils never moving "Then, we won't become those people we hate. After  
>all every time we are feeling sad or feel like we need each other we can always come to that secret base<br>of ours. We are not like them because we support each other and worry about each other."

"But our base will never last that long." This is the sad and eventual truth.

"She's already been up a decade I cannot see why she can't be up for another century."

"That old shanty is a she now?" I raise my eyebrow at that distinction.

"She was always a she."

* * *

><p>The meadow which we ran through so many years ago is filled with the noise of reed warblers. This is<br>my penultimate destination tonight to finally see, as it says in my diary, if this secret base has stood for a  
>score of years. Slowly I register it with my now night accustomed eyes.<p>

It's tiny.

Why did I ever believe that is was castle when we played siege.

After living in a castle for so long, it is hard to believe such a tiny tool shed could be filled with so much  
>history and memories. But I'm glad about one thing. It seems vandals have neither found nor touched<br>this place. Probably since this is a shed considered "haunted" by the public, a little trick we did to keep  
>this "our" base.<p>

The rotting wood makes no effort to move as I touch the door as if welcoming me back to my home  
>after twenty long years. Slowly I light the lantern that we put up and left and<p>

-all the paints have been dried and eaten by not only the rats but also the elements that visit every rain  
>season. The only distinct features left are the carvings we did. A simple game of territory, whoever<br>could carve their name in the most places would be the winner. Rene won simply because when his  
>brother and I went to the creek he would carve his name, with his letter opener, in all the empty spaces<br>which is why his name shows up much more than ours.

Slowly I reach the nook Rene used as a reading corner. There are a couple of volumes still left, half  
>mauled by the rats, but it's fun to flip through them and remember those times when tonight will be the<br>end of all that happiness.

I pull my cloak closer as the wind starts to howl outside and right next to it I notice a little drawing of  
>the trio. There is a figure that is sitting on the ground with his nose in a book and the caption of "Rene."<br>Standing next to the door is me, crying, I know it is me because my hair is in pigtails and the artist drew  
>warts all over my face which was simply not true, they were blemishes. It seems that my name has been<br>scratched out; and replaced with the title "milady." This picture must have been of the first day we all  
>met here. Yes because then the triumphant figure standing on the table waving his ancestral knife like a<br>fool is…

The boy who made me smile so much.

Gilles De Rais.

My lord and husband.

The man I have set out to kill tonight.

* * *

><p>"I have three years."<p>

His confession perplexes me.

"To what?"

"Until I leave this place. My grandfather told me that when I am fourteen I am to go to Paris and become  
>a squire and by then I would be engaged to either Jeanne Peynel or Beatrice de Rohan."<p>

"And then what are we going to do with the base?" I ask hastily trying the bury my true feelings.

"What? You don't care that I'm getting engaged and leaving?"

"Should I?" My words betray my feelings.

He turns around slightly red.

"Still that's in three years, we have time and because we have time we can have fun but right now the  
>most important thing is to make sure our base stays our base forever."<p>

He looks at me as if I'm an idiot. "We can always make it like there is a poltergeist inside. You know, put  
>some spare pots and pans on the beams so that after a while they'll fall. Leave a lantern inside and well<br>use the windows to make sounds to scare people away."

I slowly move my mouth in an "o" shape. This boy is a lot smarter than I give him credit for.

"Well I'm going to go pick some flowers now. You going to come with me?"

He pulls a face: "Let me finish cleaning this knife first."

He takes his knife out again.

I huff and move off to "pick flowers."

* * *

><p>I am running.<p>

Gilles must have told his children snatchers to make sure nobody was ever in that shanty. Those children  
>snatchers obey anything as long as they get their money and if they found me… well it wouldn't matter<br>if I was the lady of this area I would still have been dead, or worse.

So I run, run to my destination because there is no need to be discreet anymore. I am not trying to "get"  
>somewhere without being seen. It simply no longer matters if I am seen, as I just need to arrive at the<br>place where I am needed.

Gilles is a bad person. Well, he's not but…

I cannot speak for Gilles anymore because I no longer understand him.

In the end his engagement with Peynel never happened and his engagement with de Rohan broke off. I  
>never knew why that happened. His grandfather was so happy that Gilles would be married to de Rohan<br>but I think Gilles never wanted to marry her. At that time in his life Gilles was still idealistic and in the  
>end, at age sixteen, he "kidnapped" me, just like that day so long ago; one to get me away from my<br>family and two to force his grandfather to let him marry me. In those days I believed I understood him  
>and had some control of his actions however he left for war and when he came back…<p>

That is why my only inheritance, my only memory of him from those golden days is this knife. This knife I  
>took from him on the day before I left the household for Bouin. His once most prized possession now so<br>worthless that he almost liquidated it to a pawn shop.

The children snatchers chase me but do no catch me as we slowly enter the woods. They have no  
>chance because I know this path. This is a path I have trodden on many times and once out of the fear of<br>my own life. That is the reason I can both lose these children snatches and arrive at my final destination  
>for this night and this life.<p>

* * *

><p>I don't pick flowers and even if I did I would have no idea what flowers to pick. I merely used it as an<br>excuse to get away for him and now that I have gotten away I am incredibly lonely because I know that  
>this dream will end. It'll end today and it'll end every day until I stop dreaming in three years' time.<p>

I just…

I just dodge.

Two tree trunk limbs try to grab ahold of me.

"Stand still murderer's daughter." His gruff honest voice full of hostility.

I know that he is a woodman and I know more importantly that he is a kidnapper. My father probably  
>did him some wrong and now I have to pay the price. So I have to get away. Get away to the nearest<br>place with people that will help me. Who will help me?

Paralyzed.

I can't move even if I am scared.

He approaches slowly and menacing making sure that I do not get away.

-move.

The scent a hard day's work felling trees fills my nostrils.

-Move.

The eyes of a man turns into those of a madman because of the despair threatens them.

His dirt caked hand reaches me, reaching and...

MOVE!

If you can't go over it.

If you can't go around it.

If you can't go under it.

It doesn't matter if you are only nine years old because you go through it.

A sprint through the trunk like limbs gets me a frustrated groan from him and also a speedway into the  
>woods where I hope to lose him in.<p>

Tower-like trees envelop my tiny body as I romp through the moss with only the sun as my guide. But I  
>do not need it because we've gone through this forest so many times that it is impossible for me to get…<p>

I am lost.

I must have taken the wrong turn because right now I have no idea where I am. The sun became  
>blanketed by the canopy and I can hear that woodsman who knows these woods better than I do<br>shouting out "Murderer's daughter, murderer's daughter where are you?"

I have surpassed that emotion us humans call fear. I am terrified; terrified to move forward and get even  
>more lost but even more terrified at what that woodsman will do when he gets his hands on me. So<br>what can I do if I cannot escape by moving forward and I am too afraid to challenge what is behind me?

Hide.

Hide in a tree trunk and hope that I may live to see my father yell at me tonight.

* * *

><p>I survived that incident and because I survived and I became the person that I am today. On that day I<br>learnt that rather being scared of the spirits and ghosts hiding behind the trees the only thing worth being  
>scared of is that other people might be behind those trees. Why did that experience turn unknown<br>ghosts into people? And were the faces of the unknown ghosts we feared so much as children really the  
>faces of those we see walking around the town? But I made a pledge to survive and therefore I will. The<br>bishop who is actually a lord has been assured and in the back room. Gilles' horribly thought out plan  
>was brought to fruition because Rene, at this moment, inhabits Machecoul therefore Gilles could not<br>liquidate anymore assets to continue his spendthrift ways. Therefore he would go for the assets he had  
>already sold. We replaced the priest of St. Etienne de Mermorte with one whose brother was the<br>treasurer of Brittany, the brother also owned a chateau that Gilles was forced to sell. Gilles is a man who  
>has seen war and death; therefore, we were so sure he would come alone, but right now I am facing nine<br>brigands all of whom are armed.

Oh Gilles, how low have you sunk to ask these types of scum for help. The previous you would come  
>charging by yourself full of swagger. But those childhood days are all lost. You have become something<br>you hate and the only one that remembers the old you is me. Rene never knew you at all. Because right  
>now when you are the wildest and the most insane that's when you need my help. The old you would<br>have welcomed my help but you of now just throws me away as if I am some "thing." Yet even so I want to  
>help you simply because it was not the trees or the crannies that saved me that day, it was you and you<br>paid such a price for that.

As the light of the moon seeps in from the windows I take out the de Rais knife and hold it facing the  
>ruffians as if a challenge.<p>

They laugh.

They rightly laugh at the lone figure facing them with what seems to be a kitchen knife.

I'm trembling.

I am absolutely trembling.

I have never seen battle or war and I do not know the ways men fight.

But I don't have to know how to fight.

No I don't.

I don't need to know how to fight if I know how to kill.

I rush into a crimson cadenza with death right beside me.

* * *

><p>Two hands over my mouth to stop any sound of breathing. My legs are pulled as close in my body as<br>well. My dress may be soiled but that doesn't matter when my life is at stake.

Crunch.

Boots on the forest floor give away ones location no matter how wary or knowledgeable someone is. It's  
>tense to breathe a mental sigh of relief every time he seems to be going away and then it's excruciating<br>to know he is back on the trail again.

I want him to leave.

I want him to leave.

I want him to leave.

That is the only thought that pounds in my brain.

I do not care about rescue now. That simply does not matter. All I want is for him to leave. Make it a  
>branch falling on his head or lightning from this clear blue summer's sky. Something, anything. I don't<br>want to be found. I don't I don't.

Tears start welling up but I stop them, I have to stop them because I'll be found if they don't stop. So I  
>have to stop them.<p>

Stop.

Stop.

Get away from me.

I don't want this.

But surely enough even with all my praying and my cursing he steadily gets closer and closer to where I  
>am hiding and sure enough his trunk like limbs brush the very tree I am hiding under.<p>

Run.

Stay.

Fight.

Three options.

I cannot fight him; such a beast will destroy me in an instant. I am only a nine year old girl and he is an  
>adult. I have learnt not to fight against my father because it will lead into a darker despair than what I<br>already know. Don't fight against adults, if that is the only lesson I have learnt from my parents then it's  
>a good one.<p>

Run.

Stay.

Two options.

If I stay it is a fifty-fifty decision whether the man finds me or doesn't find me. Either way the decision is  
>up to luck and that man, I have no say in that issue. If I stay I will be unable to control my own fate and I<br>think that may be worse than actually being found. All that will be left of me is a wishing doll. My nurse  
>said what makes a human different for a beast is that humans actually choose their own fate so<br>therefore…

Run.

One option.

High risk, high payoff, as my father would say after making yet another return from his merchant  
>ventures, but even if I am gambling with my life the same principles apply.<p>

I don't wait for the right moment.

I run out as soon as I decide to run.

I run and cast the indecision that chained me aside.

Through the forest.

With a man chasing me.

Anyway, anywhere, it doesn't matter.

How about that church?

Yes, I'll head there since the priest is very nic-

Damn root.

I fall and with it any chance of escape.

High risk, no payoff.

I fall to the ground cursing what bad fate I have.

The moment I hit the ground I see the brilliant blue summer sky above me. I must be in a clearing. In the  
>last moments of my life I notice for the first time just how beautiful the sky really is and how much<br>it contrasts to the ugly dark death that is rushing straight at me.

* * *

><p>Branchial.<p>

Common Carotid.

Vertebral.

Already three of them have perished.

I may have learnt not to fight adults, which is the very reason I have learnt how to kill them. Humans are  
>such delicate creatures, just one cut to an artery and they instantly die and the only place I could have<br>learnt where those arteries were from books on anatomy. Yes it is not knives that kill people it is  
>knowledge.<p>

Posterior cerebral.

I feel like retching.

Just because I know how to kill and am willing to do it does not mean that I like it.

In fact the feel of warm liquid over my body makes me want to scream.

In fact the metallic smell of a liquid over my body makes me want to vomit.

In fact the sight of a vermillion liquid over my eyes makes me want to stop.

But I can't and will not.

Not until I paint the air under the blue blue glass moon crimson.

Not until I finish my cadenza with death therefore:

Celiac.

Internal thoracic.

Intercostal.

External iliac.

Now, I simply face the last man who has terror written in his face.

I must look terrifying. That's a riot because for the first time in my life I am the terrifying one.

I tilt my head slightly as he tries to make a break for it.

A clumsy bound and

-heart.

The place where all the arteries lead to, one could say it is the point of the human body.

I look at his crimson blade that has seen the raise and fall of La Pucelle and wonder if it is sated by the  
>lifeblood these scum.<p>

Clump, clump.

A promenade into a church.

I wipe the blood off my face with the cloak and wait for my target and my love.

Clump, clump.

His footsteps haven't changed.

* * *

><p>Eyes that rage like the Bull rush at me.<p>

There is only one thing on its mind.

Fresh meat for slaughter.

Get up.

Get up.

I tell myself with all my willpower.

At least die while standing up, foolish girl!

I beret myself in the same style as my mother beret's me.

And I get up.

Good, now move.

I can't.

I can't move even if I have gotten up.

I just can't.

Why not?

I wasted all my energy just getting up to face of this death that I cannot move.

Hah, so this is my end.

Fitting isn't it for me to die in a meadow all because I spilled wine on my father's diary.

What a joke that girl is.

What a joke that fate is.

Because it's not fitting at all.

It's not fitting because I want to live. I want to live with all my might.

Something from the bottom of my heart.

Definitely-

The raging bull lowers his horns as if to impale with those overgrown limbs. This is the end. Not the end I  
>wanted, but an end. So I guess I should accep-<p>

But...

-I don't want to die!

"CATHERINE!"

* * *

><p>"Gilles."<p>

The crazed man with dark eyes looks at me. He's still handsome, just, because there is a sense of  
>insanity about him, an aura that just says:<p>

"Who are you and what did you do with my soldiers!" He almost spits it out waving his battle-axe as if  
>he was a king.<p>

In response to that I hold my knife out and put the other hand on my hood.

It's not use because he doesn't even remember the knife.

"Milady who are you?" It's a childish demand from a large child.

There is no affection in his "milady," he does not know that it is me. I doubt he know who "I" am  
>anymore.<p>

Yet still as if possessed I take off the hood that hid my face in the shadows.

"WHO…ARE…YOU?"

"I am she who kills Gilles."

I may say so but I do not move because with one strike of that battle axe and I am dead.

"Is that so milady?"

From the back of his armor he takes out a book.

My disgust soars because I know exactly what it is.

"Prelati's Spellbook, a demonic tome enwrapped in human skin."

"HOW DO YOU KNOW EVEN THAT?" He screams as if a little child.

"Gilles, it's a lie, that does not summons demons; nothing will come to aid you."

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

It's hard to believe that this is the boy who called my name out so desperately so many years ago.

It's hard to believe that this the man who I sent out of die during the war.

It's hard to believe that this is the man who I fell in love with.

But I have a promise to fulfill and a debt to pay so…

"HAHAHAH YOU SEE! YOU SEE WATER DEMONS FROM ANOTHER WORLD; DO YOU SEE?"

I'll even destroy these beasts of hell to fulfill that promise.

The beasts that he summons are unearthly and grotesque, usually I would scream but to do so would be  
>wasting breath. I grip my knife as tightly as possible<p>

-and run into the deepest and darkest abyss that I have ever seen.

* * *

><p>A knife and blood.<p>

A pierced heart.

He always said that the heart of the point of death for the body.

The gurgling of blood then choking and finally death.

Cold arms enwrap my scared body whispering: "It's okay, it's fine" over and over again.

But it's not fine, not for Gilles anyway.

He's shaking absolutely shaking and instead of being hugged I turn into the person doing the hugging.

"I didn't know. I didn't know." He repeats over and over again as if some sort of mantra.

I look at the dead body with the knife plunged into the chest. It seemed so alive just a few moments ago.  
>So alive and full of activity that it seems it may just jump back up. But I rid my mind with that naiveté.<br>That is no longer a body, all it is a clump of meat.

I turn my attention back to the pathetic boy who had just saved me and for the first time in his life called  
>out my name.<p>

"Murdering someone is the same as murdering oneself."

I don't understand.

"So, I will meet death, alone, in some desolate place."

I really don't understand.

* * *

><p>Ahhh, it hurts, it really does hurt.<p>

After being pierced in the stomach and sides I can no longer see anything expect for flecks of sunshine  
>glowing because of the candle light.<p>

I am crucified upon the altar with unmoving tentacles around me. This was worse than a defeat, I only  
>managed to chop up a few until I was pummeled. Then I crawled up to this alter to die surrounded by<br>the warm glow of these holy candles. But it's fine. It's fine that the priest was captured; I was only a  
>"best scenario." It does not matter because Gilles will be caught and executed.<p>

Tonight I have killed for the first time. I have taken nine lives yet I still do not understand his words.

"Murdering someone is the same as murdering oneself."

Then perhaps what I did was not murder, but massacre? If so, I can no longer let myself die, because one  
>can only take one life in a lifetime. The first is always the most important after all I did…<p>

I sigh as the flecks of sunlight get closer and closer.

Still I am satisfied in the respect that I have fulfilled our promise because even if he doesn't remember, I  
>do.<p>

Yes, even as I am crucified on this altar still unable to understand your words from so long ago.

We tried to reach the same place.

We failed.

This is the end.

There is nothing to regret as this is just a conclusion. Sometimes things do not end happily. Sometimes  
>things end in a way that you expected but never wanted. Those are the truest endings. However<p>

-My promise, my reply to his words, the very light that has kept me going this mid-summer night's dream…

* * *

><p>"Th- Then I'll carry your sins until the day you die and on that day… I will be the one to kill you."<p> 


	7. into Rider: tyrant

**into Rider: Tyrant**

"'_The King - lives to the fullest! He needs to live more fully than anyone else! He is a figure of  
>admiration to his people!'<br>Rider's voice boomed as he sat atop his beloved steed. The Heroic Spirits began smashing their weapons  
>against their shields, shouting in unison.<em>

'_He gathered the will of every courageous being! He marched toward that dream and began his long  
>conquest! That is our king! Thus-'<em>

'_The King is never lonesome! For his wishes are our wishes!'_

'_Indeed! Indeed! Indeed!'_

_The majestic cries of the Heroic Spirits pierced the heavens and flew among the stars. No matter what  
>they faced – enemy or fortress, it was powerless before the King of Conquerors and his loyal friends. Such<br>was their spirit they could cross the earth. With this spirit, they could split the very oceans.  
>And thus, the Assassins standing before them were as insignificant as clouds."<em>

_-Rider, Fate/Zero_

"Only Persians!" I make my declaration loud and clear for all to hear and obey.

With an unnecessary haste a man with bronze armor and a long pike comes towards me. The crest on  
>his helmet tells me he is a captain and his skin tells me he is a man that has journeyed with me from the<br>beginning.

"But sir…" he tries to start but ends up blubbering in front of his king.

"Get away from me!" I roar with hostility in my voice. "Only Persians are to be in my inner circle from  
>now on. Only Persians until you Macedonians learn what respect truly means!"<p>

It's frightening to even me. I never thought that it would come to this. I never thought I would have to  
>resort to such tactics.<p>

The man who tried to placate me is dragged away by two tall and well-toned body guards both naked  
>expect for a loincloth.<p>

This never should have happened.

This never would have happened.

Only that it did and the reason for its happening was that…

It's my fault really and since I am unable to resurrect dead men I can only pray to the gods for help to fix  
>this situation myself. I am uncomfortable, even if I chose to surround myself with these amiable Persians<br>who love me as much as they loved Darius I feel as if their feelings are not genuine. They only live under  
>my rule and respect me because everyone else does as well.<p>

What do I think of that?

I have many friends, many compatriots, my memories of fording rivers and crossing hot sands are  
>testament to that. So why am I now regretting it?<p>

No, I am not regretting everything I have done. To forsake such a feat would be to deny my own  
>existence and even worse my dreams which have taken me this far.<p>

Once upon a time in a more innocent era I wished to leave my footprints in the beaches of Oceanus.  
>Now I think how useless an endeavor that would be in only my footprints were left there.<p>

My head becomes cupped in my palms because of my dark mood. I have seen so many die and have  
>seen so many join. This mutiny definitely wouldn't have happened if you were still my side, my friend.<p>

* * *

><p>That smile was the indicator of guilt that I needed. The old man had let himself slip up but I stay<br>crouched in this corner waiting for that ever distant perfect moment. There is no perfect moment to kill  
>your own general, especially one like Parmenion. But I have since I killed his son. Why didn't my teacher<br>ever tell me that all killing leads to is more killing? That is the truth of the world but as a conqueror I  
>must take that entire burden and even more if I am to conquer this entire world.<p>

And with that thought the blood completely rushes to my head.

Indeed

-it is this thought that has allowed me to scale the grand mountain known as Hindu Kush and traverse  
>the searing deserts of Mackran.<p>

And one step before my conquest has finished the illusion fades away and on my hands is the lifeblood  
>of a great friend of mine.<p>

That friend of mine looks into my eyes and sighs.

We are so silent that even drops of blood that drips from his mouth onto the ground makes a deafening  
>sound.<p>

Break the silence, one of us please break this ballooning silence.

"So finally…"

Huh, blood instead of words comes from Parmenion's mouth. My sword must have pierced his lungs.

"Do you believe o' Alexander, that you can continue destroying in order to step forward?"

I just stare at him; my conviction has never been this strong. Slowly I nod.

"I am not running away, I am running towards."

"When you reach your Oceanus and look back to see nothing but broken cities, what then?"

"None of these men have been forced to follow me. They both love and fear me; they do this out of  
>their own goodwill and to a lesser extent for gold. Therefore if there is nobody behind me when I reach<br>Oceanus, it is so."

"Don't you feel any sort of responsibility towards these conquered lands that you only use as footholds?  
>These places have living people, who have dreams and aspirations; they need a leader, a person who<br>doesn't take over the city then run towards the next one. These people do not need Alexandrias and a  
>large empire. They need Alexander and a ruler." He coughs loudly, he is about to die even the Death<br>that looms behind him knows that.

"Soon old man you will be taken to Hades and will be hopefully blessed enough to meet the heroes of  
>the Trojan War. Tell everyone you meet on your journey in the underworld. Tell Cerberus, Charon and<br>even Hades himself if you can to prepare their fortifications because Alexander is coming. Right after he  
>takes over this world he will charge the underworld with his army. So tell them to be very scared."<p>

He looks shocked at my bold challenge to the gods themselves and then as if knowing that I would  
>succeed he smiles wryly.<p>

"I will tell all who I meet in the Hades that. So you must fulfill it. I want to see it, even if I hate it; I want  
>to see if you rule works. Can you really walk away from all these people, can you really leave them<br>behind to go forward to Hades. So right now I'll die, I'll die alone so make it Alexander, make it to where  
>my spirit will be and then tell me your answer. Then you can be truly called 'The Great.'" And slowly he<br>lowers those fluttering eyes that can no longer see what is in front of him. And at the moment of his  
>death it seems his hand reaches out as if to grasp something that is no longer there.<p>

"Goodbye." My emotionless voice hides the torrent of feelings in my heart. "Goodbye old friend, I'll  
>definitely make it there."<p>

And then with a deft motion I take out two golden coins out of my purse. Slowly I lay the corpse onto  
>the floor. The face I had seen so many times is unrecognizable since there is no more life in it. The body<br>lies on the cold stone ground and then on the glassy eyes I place the golden coins, one per eye, as  
>payment for Charon.<p>

Then with a sweep of my cloak I leave the room and do not stop even to give funeral orders to the  
>guards outside his tent.<p>

There are no tears.

There are no regrets.

Only a death and a promise therefore I won't think about the future since right now…

"To Philotimo…"

I challenge the world because it is unreachable therefore as soon as it becomes reachable I won't  
>challenge it again. Parmenion was a valuable man, even if he is a traitor, so he will prepare the field for<br>my next conquest.

So right now…

I have to take over the world to meet him again.

* * *

><p>"Stone him." My threatening voice booms through the room.<p>

The young man coughs slightly as his death is raised.

I am feeling slightly merciful therefore I will allow sound to be given to his last words.

"My dearest father had nothing to do with this rebellion. He is so stubbornly loyal to your highness." He  
>seemingly spits the last word.<p>

And for that he is killed.

The blooming red lilies stain the red carpet with crimson and right in the middle is a fountain, one that  
>so full of liquid that it seems never-ending.<p>

I don't think about the repercussions about killing this soldier of mine called Philotes and possibly never  
>will because even though he was one of my most talented generals he is now nothing more than a sack<br>on meat. I shouldn't worry about the past or what he tried to do. I stop worry about what I am going to  
>do now with that father of his.<p>

Parmenion is one of my generals but before that he was one of my father's therefore he has much  
>experience. Still he is a traitor who tried to kill me.<p>

Practicality and ideal fight against one another in my mind.

Even if a man tries to kill me and I think of him as a foe, I am still able to respect him. That was the case  
>with Darius who fought so bravely.<p>

So…

I guess I'll deal with this bag of meat's father the same way I did with Darius. But inwardly, while sitting  
>on this throne, I sigh at the loses that I have accumulated and shudder to think how many people I will<br>lose only to gain more. I am worried because I know these friends will travel to the ends of world and I  
>am thankful for that since the king must have greed deeper and larger than any of his subjects to truly<br>be a king. That is only me as a King though, as a human…

Roxana looks at me strangely from her throne. It must be because I'm laughing even though I had just  
>killed a man. I quickly try to reassure her that I am laughing about something else.<p>

I threw away my humanity when I became "King."

It is a ritual every King goes through, physical or metaphorical.

I threw away my humanity the day I killed my father and took his throne.

Slowly as the fountain is dragged away from the throne I touch my heavy crown. It's solid and so cold  
>that it singes my fingertips. This is the burden of a king. A crown used to be made of nettle and would<br>make the ruler bleed. The purpose was to prove that the ruler of the people would support the people  
>even if he is bleeding.<p>

I fling that crown to the ground as I leave my throne room to find the father of this traitor.

* * *

><p>I am not just some "King" though. I am the "King of Conquerors" therefore I do not sit on a throne<br>shouldering the burden of others I go out to conqueror crowns that aren't mine.

Philotes' eyes sparkles at the sight of such splendor.

"Philotes, it is good that your eyes were not pierced in the battle otherwise you would be unable to see  
>the splendor that fills your eyes right now."<p>

"Truly your majesty, I have never seen anything this great or golden before." He turns to face me.

But as soon as he turns around I have gone on inspecting the winnings this battle has brought me.

On the battlefield I respected Darius as an opponent, but right now I respect him as a man. A man with  
>tastes and an insatiable greed much like my own. It seems that is the reason why we had such a close<br>fight.

I survey the throne room and then actually try sitting on the throne. No emotions go through mind  
>though all this splendor is right in my palms. Once upon a time this palace was an impregnable fortress<br>and that is what attracted me to this place. Now it is just another mansion I call an asset. True that this  
>palace is full of treasure that can finance my further exploits for conquest. However this cold, golden<br>palace of Darius' cannot truly compare to my treasures, my comrades. Each one of those men roaming  
>the hallways of this palace are more tempered than the swords in the former king's treasury. Each one<br>of those men and more valuable than the diamonds encrusted in the ceiling as if to give the sense this is  
>starry night.<p>

The gigantic doors slowly open and an older man, still fit for warfare, slowly walks in.

"Ahhh it truly lightens my heart to see you, Paramenion could you tell the servants to exchange this  
>enormous footstool for a table?"<p>

I point to the ridiculously large golden slab out of the reach of my feet.

"Of course sire, would a table be fine?"

"Anything would be fine."

"Then I'll have it prepared at once." He leaves as if he was an elderly butler.

Such a description is false though. There is still fire in that old lion; especially after watching his feats in  
>the battle.<p>

"Oh sire." He turns back around abruptly.

"Yes?"

"This is the same room that the King of Heroes wrestled with his best friend." And with those final words  
>he leaves to fetch me that table.<p>

Shifting my position so that my fist is under my chin and my elbow is resting on the table I gaze with a  
>stone like face at the room which Gilgamesh was supposedly to have fought Enkidu then became friends<br>with each other.

If such a legend is true then this room is a testament to what friendship can achieve. I never really read  
>Babylonian myth though. I prefer my copy of The Iliad which I read in situations like this. So I gently flip<br>the pages as if it a lover and reach the fight between Ajax and Hector.

Gilgamesh and Enkidu, two men who are immortalized in the pages history and turned into legend, to  
>be able to own the palace they owned is truly a blessing. I can picture it now, the two men struggling in<br>this very room, each not allowing an inch for the other, all for the sake for a woman. Now I think about it  
>so was the Trojan War. I laugh wildly because I realize history and legend will not remember me because<br>women have never been a factor in my exploits.

Knock

Then words seeming muffled by the iron doors spill into the room so I can hear.

"Sire, we've brought the table, could you please open to door."

I smile at my incompetent subordinates that are my treasures among treasures and bathe in the warmth  
>of this day and more importantly my friends.<p>

* * *

><p>"ISKANDER!"<p>

"DARIUS!"

Our chariots clash as wildly as our voices.

Gordius Wheel's divine bulls meet his royal chariot's divine scythes.

They pound each other and the magical energy that is released blows away all those that are close to us  
>and both of us have to temporarily retreat.<p>

This is Issus.

This is the final battle.

The moment when one is in reach of the peak yet lacks the oxygen to take it.

"Via Expugnatio!"

The true name of the wheel of heaven's authority makes the bulls roar even louder and Darius' own  
>shout is lost in the deafening lightning.<p>

Charge.

Charge.

Our chariots clash against each other again and again, both meeting the strength check therefore unable  
>to deal extra damage to the other.<p>

Equal.

Our strength is equal. He is in no way greater than I am therefore I am becoming very bored of this and  
>at this moment I know that I will win. My ambition is larger than his; I want to take this very world, he<br>only wants to kill me and save his throne. Therefore I will win because I only view him as a stepping  
>stone towards my eventual take-over of this world.<p>

Again and again they keep slamming into each other. That is the problem with fighting with divine  
>weapons, when they are equal they go on and on until one of the combatants falls to exhaustion.<p>

Darius' eyes are filled with an emotion that has never filled my own before. He is frustrated. I laugh  
>because even if I have been angry I have never been frustrated. He roars at his troops as if to frighten<br>them or to boost their morale. He's frustrated at his own men, what a pathetic man. The figure that  
>loomed so high before and who still is psychically larger than me seems to be all that smaller because<br>even with an army of that size he is only one man barking orders while I am lifted by my men. We are  
>one but we are many and I am at top of that mountain of men. Everything that I have right now and how<br>far I have gotten are all due to those friends so…

I raise my hand to signal to the archers.

In that instant this battle is over.

It is near impossible to kill Darius. After all he is one man that has a nation on his shoulders. However it  
>is very possible to kill his pride therefore his leadership. The archers all aim at the horses he uses for his<br>chariot. The divine part of his chariot is the scythed blades those horses, no matter how beautiful and  
>strong they are just normal horses, they do not have the intelligence or composure of my bulls therefore<br>these arrows are able to frighten them.

The Persian King of Kings never holds the reigns in battle after all he has trust in his power to control  
>those horses without the need to actually hold their bridles.<p>

Big mistake.

Pride is always one's downfall because right now because of these arrows those horses are blindly  
>charging into the heart of my troops. Usually this would mean the defeat of my soldiers after all, that<br>chariot is a divine weapon. But…

"Bucephalus!"

And here she runs swift as the wind and graceful as any flower in this trodden battlefield. She's a fine  
>mare that has been my steed and companion for as long as I can remember. She's already saddled up so<br>as soon as she gallops level with Gordius Wheel. I leap onto her and charge towards glory and conquest.

Bucephalus is a greater mystery than even my own bulls. She's seen so much and been through so much  
>that even the gods note her. Darius knows this. He knows that as soon as his chariot which is no longer<br>controlled by him touches my mare he will die. That is a certainty. However if he reins in those horses  
>and switches to his second chariot he may live another day however he would have lost his pride and<br>dignity.

Our distance closes up with the beating of Bucephalus' hooves and the collective rumbling of those  
>horses on the dusty, blood soaked battlefield.<p>

Closer.

Closer.

And as we are about to meet.

As he is about to die.

He reins in the horses and they retreat.

I do not purse them because I don't have to purse them.

Because the moment that Darius decided to break the tradition of Persian kings; he lost. Darius put his  
>life above the beliefs of his soldiers. His soldiers believed he was almost a god, something who could<br>defeat any enemy, yet he defiled all that, not by retreating, but, by breaking a tradition. This proves that  
>Darius and I are different. He does not understand the beliefs of men. He does not believe than his men<br>believe in and rely on him so much. Darius only believes in himself. He finds worth in his life like any  
>man, but he won't sacrifice himself for his goal. Should've he? I do not know if long term that would be<br>wise however if I had killed him his soldiers would have been vengeful and filled with rage at the fact  
>their great ruler was killed. What he did was worse than dying. The people will no longer fight with the<br>vigor they once did. Humans reciprocate, so now if Darius is not gambling his life then neither will his  
>soldiers. And this is the result.<p>

The so-called greatest army in the world is fleeing in every direction.

"Your majesty," Parmenion's voice penetrates my weary musing. "We've won the day."

"Yes Paremenion, we have indeed, but why is your skin soaked with blood? Even those in the front of  
>the phalanx aren't so bloodied."<p>

"Long story sire, long story."

"Well you should share it among the fireplaces after the men clean themselves."

And for no particular reason we both laugh and laugh. May be it is the vigor of a victory, of knowing one  
>has conquered something once thought was unreachable or more possibly it is the knowledge that one<br>is able to share that victory with a friend.

* * *

><p>"Move the King approaches the temple."<p>

A drearily extravagant procession follows my footsteps to the fabled Gordian knot. Leading this  
>"necessary" process is Parmenion in full armor.<p>

Slowly in a bobbing motion the structure completely comes into view. Large. That is the only world that  
>can describe this monument to Zeus. The head priest comes out and then after exchanging some words<br>with Parmenion turns to me.

"So your majesty you come to Phrygia to test the Gordian Knot. "

I had heard the legend about the oracle that said he who comes to this place in a chariot would be king  
>and how that was Gordius. The cart was an oxen-driven cart of a farmer.<p>

"Indeed head priest because after all I am the man who will conquer all of Asia therefore I am the only  
>man who can fulfill your age-old prophecy."<p>

The old head priest with sulfurous yellow robes leads only me into the temple.

"You don't really believe just by untying this knot you can become king of all Asia do you?"

"Of course not, but in doing so my men will believe it is my destiny to conquer Asia and therefore I will  
>be one step closer to actually conquering the place."<p>

The priest laughs: "You put a lot of faith in your warriors don't you? That's good, because king is nothing  
>without his subjects. You understand things that Darius doesn't."<p>

It is a genuine compliment without an ulterior motive so I decide that I like this head priest.

"You're a good man and priest you know that."

"Not just a priest, but a seer as well."

I am rather taken aback with his declaration.

"No one has heard this from me but," he points to his left eye which is slightly bluer than the other.  
>"Apollo has gifted me with this eye which can see into the future of men."<p>

"Do you want payment to see my future?" I take him as the common two-bit conman.

"No, I haven't told anyone because my eye is weak; I can only see the future of those who are especially  
>bright."<p>

"So, I am one of those people?" I am the child of Zeus after all.

The priest nods slowly.

"You are the first I have met in thirty years. So it would be my honor to actually tell you what will pass."  
>He closes his other eye as if to try to get a better read on my threads of fate and then after a few<br>seconds. "I don't know how far in your future this is but I see an isle in the far-east. All your friends have  
>died however they are still inside of you; you carry their souls. You are standing in a city of wrought iron.<br>This city seems too unworldly and lacks so much nature. You are protecting a boy who calls you 'The  
>Great'. He is short, immature and conceited, but he's genuine."<p>

"So he is my friend?"

"Possibly your greatest."

I laugh from my belly. I want to meet him. I want to meet this immature boy who this priest is talking  
>about. So many questions sprout from my mind. How did we meet? How did we become friends? And<br>more why do we stand together?

"Priest, it's strange to say this but I believe you your words are true, when they come to pass I will come  
>back to tell you of the result."<p>

He smiles like the gentle grandfatherly old man he is: "We've arrived I leave you to the knot yourself, be  
>known that it cannot be cut but any weapon after all it is not just a knot but a mystery and now evolved<br>into a concept."

And from under the marble arches I arrive at the middle of temple. It resembles a closed amphitheater.  
>The very air seethes with mana. My mother would love to live in a place like this. In the center of the<br>room in a raised podium there it stands tied to a marble column. It's beautiful; its basic shape is an oxen  
>cart but the years of never being seen and its ascension into legend has tempered it into a majestic<br>chariot capable of destroying armies. The various myths of the subjects have given what was farmer's  
>cart ornaments and a power that is even scares me.<p>

I move onto the knot itself. The knot itself is a stronger legend that the chariot. Even if this knot started  
>as a knot the legend of "he who undoes this becomes the conqueror of Asia" has strengthened it so that<br>only the conqueror of Asia can undo this knot. I concede that I have not conqueror Asia yet so it is  
>impossible for me to undo this knot. However I am able to destroy the concept with my own.<p>

From its sheath I take out the sword of Cypriots. This sword is a normal sword that I took from the  
>ambassador of Cyprus as a gift and have used until today. It is a beautiful sword however it is still only<br>made by human hands. This sword itself is not a conceptual weapon; it will do nothing against this knot.  
>So instead I'll gamble my future onto this strike. If it is part of my fate to one day conqueror all of Asia<br>this sword should have that memory since life is only added after all memories are made. So somewhere  
>in this sword is my experience of actually taking over Asia. This is my dream. I believe in my men. I<br>believe this knot will bend to my destiny.

And so…

No resistance.

As if butter the sword slides into the knot and cuts it into two.

I don't laugh.

I don't move.

After all this is the result I expected. To have failed in this conquest would have been to die in the  
>attempt and that would never happen to me. Of course this knot bent to my sword.<p>

Rumbling.

I look around for the possible sound of those beating hooves that sound like thunder. Closer, and closer  
>they approach.<p>

Until they yoke themselves to the chariot.

Their black fur glistens and their horns are decorated with jewels. Both of them are identical. Phantasm  
>Race, they are divine bulls from Zeus himself, a gift and a message for his son. Slowly I move to the<br>rider's position and crack the reins. And with a gust of divine wind the doors of the temple are opened.

The bulls rush forward there hooves rain thunder and lighting. I have gained two new companions. I will  
>return to my camp and then tomorrow with my new chariot I will…<p>

I stop and shout my sentiments.

"DARIUS, I AM FINALLY AT THE STARTING LINE. WATCH OUT OR THE LIGHTING OF ALEXANDER THE  
>GREAT WILL BURN YOU TO CRISP."<p>

* * *

><p>"Your majesty, what is your most valuable resource?"<p>

The envoy of the Cypriots looks at me with all the seriousness he can muster.

I don't even have to think about that for a second.

"My friends." I answer with the speed of lightning.

"Then why would you want to conquer the east?"

I look towards the distant forest only gently lighted by the campfire.

"Have you tried to do something impossible?"

"Of course not, after all that is impossible."

"You should try some time; especially if you do it with a lot of your friends. It's fun, a lot of fun."

He is speechless at my simple words.

"Fun? But it's impossible so nothing will ever be achieved."

"True, but even if nothing is achieved it is time spent with your friends. You see right now I am  
>surrounded by the men I believe in and we have fun. What about you are you surrounded by your<br>friends. I mean look around you."

He finds it humiliating to look around his surroundings.

"I am alone."

"You don't have to state what is obvious."

And with a thrust from my blade I fell the man and call up my guard.

"Take his body to Cyprus and tell the leaders that I will not stand being the target of assassination."

"Should I take the sword as well milord?"

"No I'll keep for self-affirmation that this man did try to kill me. Also tell them to give him a proper burial  
>because even if was my assassin he was a good man."<p>

The guard nods and takes the body and leaves me alone with the blade that was to take my life.

It's not a pretty blade; it's sturdy and particularly wide. It's unadorned except for the pommel which has  
>the figure of a lion. I decide on sight that this is a blade that will serve me well.<p>

Slowly I move out of this tent and watch the starry sky wondering if this was the same sky Achilles saw  
>when he first set off for Troy. The destination I set is a long way and even if this is only the beginning my<br>hands are already bloodied by good men's blood. I am sure if it was I alone I could not handle such a  
>burden which is why my destination this slow spring night is among my soldiers, the very men that I will<br>carry and will carry me to that distant destination we call a dream.

* * *

><p>Crimson blood flowed from the sword tip.<p>

Red filled my eyes and covered my brother.

Vermillion eyes of the killer full of hate.

My father coughing blood and the child, my half-brother, falling into my arms while shrilly sobbing.

I could not understand the events that were happening right in front of me.

The King, my father pulls out the sword with the last of his strength and quickly stabs the assassin in the  
>heart.<p>

A gurgling sounds as both men fall to the ground. I look down in disbelief, but I do not look at my  
>father's dying warrior visage but rather his killer's.<p>

He is someone that I know.

The guards come rushing along with all the haste they can must and my step-mother and the bride of  
>this wedding in tow.<p>

But before they arrive the killer smiles a brilliant smile, one that a man should not wear when he is  
>about to die.<p>

"Boy, one day you will be great, unlike this man, because you truly value people and view your friends as  
>treasures. Right now this country needs a king like that. The people need a king like you so I'll entrust<br>the future in you."

And then he died.

He was the first person I had actually watched die. Unlike my father he did not die while screaming and  
>crying, he died like he lived, silently and with dignity.<p>

He wasn't someone that knew me well, we only met once. However he entrusted his life to allow me to  
>rule essentially he believed in me. Never in my short life had I felt so appalled yet honored. Without<br>moving and with my face covered in blood my half-brother was taken from my arms. I was motionless  
>and the only thing I could think of was:<p>

"This country is too small for you." My father once uttered those words.

Then I must take over the world. I'll prove that you weren't wrong, my friend so for you I will become  
>"Great."<p>

* * *

><p>"Get that rabble out of my house." My mother's screeching voice would not stop.<p>

After being spurned by my father and her cult and being exiled she had grown tedious. She was a  
>monster to the slaves and sometimes her temper reached me, her beloved son so it was clear that this<br>stranger I found would clearly earn her disproval.

Later on I had found out his name was Pausanias and he was a minor courtier of my father. I possibly  
>had seen him fleetingly around the court of the King. His story was that he had fallen out of favor of the<br>king and Attalus, whose niece my father had married, hired goons to attack him and dump him in this  
>area of the empire where he would be left to die without anyone knowing who he was.<p>

I reached the room where my mother was pulling the hair out of her female slave and even surprising  
>myself with a quiet yet disgust filled voice: "Mother stop that."<p>

Crack.

The slap that should have been aimed at me was delivered to the slave.

"Mother, please leave her alone, I'll punish her myself so please stop. Is that behavior fitting for a  
>queen?"<p>

Puffing and panting my mother stopped abusing the poor girl whose face was now swollen beyond  
>recognition and pushed her towards the door. I motioned to one of my bodyguards and quietly<br>whispered: "Make sure she gets to the infirmary and gets the medical attention she needs."

He silently nodded his face trying so hard to mask his contempt and disappeared as if he was never  
>there.<p>

"Alexander I DEMAND that you get that trash out of here."

"Mother he is injured, badly, he needs rest."

"I DON'T CARE! I WANT THAT MAN OUT!" Her scream is an ultimatum that says we will not talk anymore  
>on this subject. It is the order of a queen.<p>

"Mother do you have any friends?"

She opens her mouth but that question was like a slap on the face.

"That is the reason you do not pity this man, and the reason you will die alone."

And then I turn and stroll out of the room unbelieving of my victory over my mother. A few years ago I  
>could have never believed this. A few years ago victory over my mother was as distant as Oceanus but<br>today is the day I walked on those beaches. I try to calm the blood pumping to my head after my second  
>conquest, a tiny personal victory but one nevertheless.<p>

"Oh and by the way mother if you or your snakes gets near that man…"

The door closes before I am able to make the final threat.

I have changed; I am no longer the boy that is coddled by his mother. That relationship is such a lonely  
>one. I have not become a man yet either. The precious thing that I have gained that has changed me so<br>much is friendship. During the time under Aristotle's tutelage I met other boys in situations much like  
>my own and we came to care about each other. So even if I am scared and alone I will never be lonely.<br>We made a pact that we would support each other even if our bodies are no longer on this earth. That  
>was the first day I saw how grand this world really was. So I'll disregard my mother and help that man<br>because I want to help that man and my friends completely support my decision because we are friends  
>and even my mother cannot tear that apart.<p>

* * *

><p>While walking through the streets unfamiliar to me I happened upon a man. Even though his face was so<br>beaten up it was one that seemed familiar to me.

I slowly walked up to him berating myself not to be scared of his condition since I had a city named after  
>me. He was in a terrible condition his face was beat up and his robes are all disheveled even ripped at<br>some places. He had been brutally assaulted by a trio or perhaps even a gang. This was sight so  
>atrocious that even the aftermath of pillaged towns could not compare; this was the desecration of a<br>human being. I could not help but feel sorry for the man; after all I also was in a similar situation. I have  
>been exiled from the kingdom because of my father. However that could not compare to what had been<br>done to this man. So trying not evading him with my eyes I picked him up and carried him home. After  
>all I'm sure that is what I wish someone would do for me if I was in his situation. So I quickly ease him up<br>all the while reassuring him with the words:

"It'll all be fine friend I'll make sure of it."

And suddenly those horrified eyes suddenly gently closed as if he believed in my empty words.

* * *

><p>"Sire, are you sure after all that is going against all the advice the generals give?"<p>

My youthful idealistic eyes dismiss this relic.

"Have you received training from the great Aristotle? And more importantly are you the son of the King  
>and rightful heir to the throne?"<p>

"No sire."

"Therefore do what I order. We ride to Maedi now."

The relic gives me one final disgusted looked filled his malice and leaves with my stupidity as the only  
>thing on his mind.<p>

Parmenion comes to my side; my father had left him to take care of state while I was regent. He smiled  
>in a very uncomfortable way.<p>

"Your highness has changed." His observation spoke tones about how he saw me now.

And then I set off without needing to give him a reply. I am Riding Bucephalus ahead of my army facing  
>my first battle; of course I was nervous however I my heart was still. After all I had Parmenion at my side<br>who was my father's greatest general, he was even better than Enmenes who was hailed as the  
>smartest man in the empire, but more so in that sacred place of learning I had found the truth and a<br>bond that would never die. And that was the reason why even if I wanted to flee, I steadied myself and  
>rode on. A man is nothing by himself, even if he is a king he is only one person. Only when one person<br>inspires others to join him in his cause can the true power of that man be displayed.

The city was in sight now and soon I would taste first blood.

I took out my blade from my sheath and on the top of my lunges:

"To Philotimo!"

And the army of the king rushed to meet the battle that was promised.

Together.

* * *

><p>"Everyone hands in."<p>

Twelve boys put their hands into a circle. These were boys who had only seen battles in their dreams.  
>They only dreamt of the glory that the battlefield holds and never had nightmares of what horrors they<br>might see. So these bright eyed individuals found joy in being part of this "select" group lead by the  
>prince of Macedonia, Alexander the Third.<p>

Today was the graduation of these boys from their school. They had been taught by the greatest  
>philosophers of the day and spared with veterans who had seen countless battles or so they said. Each<br>boy had their path already mapped out for them and most importantly each boy had found solstice in  
>this group. They were friends; friends of chance and circumstance. That meant quite possibly they would<br>never meet each other again. So this was the last ritual among many they would hold.

"Boys, today the day we leave this house of learning. We have seen much and gone through much  
>together and in that way we are brothers. Remember what was learnt here and how much we enjoyed<br>our time together. We are friends now and we will be friends forever. Even on our death-beds we will  
>not die alone for we have each other. This bond runs as thick as or even thicker than blood."<p>

All the boys nodded at the prince's speech and the one of his right side exclaimed for the last time in  
>their lives:<p>

"Who are we?"

And those eleven boys all with mischievously grinning roared into the setting sun and until even the  
>gods could hear:<p>

"We are Ionian Hetairoi!"

And eleven of those hands were lifted and their backs now faced the outer of the circle except the last  
>boy. He slowly then withdrew his hand and turned towards the setting sun.<p>

"My friends and treasures,"

My eyes were full of hopes and a flutter with dreams supported by those who I hold so dear to me, so  
>with an exclamation,<p>

"TO CONQUEST!" My voice sailed into the heavens themselves.

And we all broke off set on the path of our own goals until we all reached that distant utopia known as  
>Oceanus.<p> 


	8. into Another: UBW

**into Another: UBW**

_"One day these mystic eyes would be necessary to the existence known as Ryuudou Issei but until then I should just live a normal life. I never expected that day would be today, but is today any better than tomorrow or yesterday?"_  
><em>-Ryuudou Issei, Fate into Darkness_

From naught

-Suddenly I awaken,

But before I open my eyes I can smell Emiya and then I realize I am in his bed. With a spray of the covers I panic, after all why I am in my best friend's futon? Then I slowly notice a more serpentine, bestial smell, one that smells of both danger and antiquity, but it is familiar therefore comforting. However even if I am familiar with this smell, I still do not understand it, there is still so much to learn about it, to learn from it but most of all the enwrap myself that scent until half of my scent becomes this one and with that yearning I slowly stir and finally open my eyes.

Clack.

The sliding paper door is fiercely pushed open and a face almost hidden due to the hasty application of pair of glasses pops out.

"I made breakfast."

I scrunch my face because I do not comprehend the situation at least for a while. But when I realize how beautiful that face under that face is

-MONSTER.

"Ri-, "but I stop only because when I started enunciating the first syllable because the door that was so open suddenly closed.

I rub my eyes weakly and try to remember at least part of what was precious to me.

Rider was the name of the person I loved.

That woman's name was Rider.

From my hazy memories it would seem that I have been going out with that woman for a month now ever since that vampire incident. Remembering more and more, I push myself out of my best friend's bed.

-Heavy, my body is so heavy that I fall back down onto the futon.

Why is my body so heavy? Also where is the true owner of this room? No matter how much I call for her Rider will not come to help me. I must have slighted her in some way, so steeling myself I crawl all the way into my best friend's living room to face Ri…

Why does the image of a tress of snakes appear when I form her name in my mind?

* * *

><p>"You've been asleep for three days." Rider's voice from across the table almost seems accusing.<p>

Firstly, it feels rather awkward eating at another person's table without that person even if I happen to know him very well, so not listening that intently I just reply with a sound.

Rider lowers her eyes a tad: "You know you shouldn't have worried me like that."

-A blinding light that covers the world and red, streams of red, red everywhere.

My head hurts at the recollection of so many memories but first.

"Where are Emiya and Matou?"

She looks at me as if I was as insensitive as a jellyfish but she still answers, "England, the Clock Tower."

I reply instantly," Why didn't you go with Matou-san? She's your Master after all."

"Do you want to be dead?"

I reprimand myself for my density. Obviously the only reason she would stay here is because of me.

"Sorry, I was just worried about what you were going to about prana."

Her eyes do not soften: "It doesn't matter if my Master is on top of the moon, I'll still be supplied with her prana."

"So then, what happened here? What happened to put us into this state?"

I refer to my heavy, heavy body and Emiya and Matou's sudden trip.

"You should know, after all, you were there weren't you. You blasted idiot, you." Her eyes seem to turn me into stone.

Medusa, my love's name is not Rider, it's Medusa and with that the recollections that are not held within the mind but the soul seem to burst out. But…

-Blades coming out from the back of a boy.

-My arm seemingly torn.

-The song of steel and claws and eventually

-a meteor falls from the sky.

My memories are in a jumble I cannot understand nor comprehend the images streaming towards me since I had told myself that first I must get through these three which I have stored and replayed just before I faded into naught.

* * *

><p>"You must understand that Rider is a being known as a Servant." Emiya's voice penetrates my pounding head.<p>

I rub my eyes to try to distract myself and notice blood on my sleeves; after the vampire almost crushed my chest blood must have got onto my face and eventually to my eyes. That must have just been just after I shattered the vampire's fantasy. I return to the voice of my best friend in high school who right now he works odd jobs around the city. He is the type of person that everyone likes, but believes he can use him as a janitor. I admit I am also one of those people. The other inhabitant of this house is Matou Sakura who was tending to Rider's wounds in another room of this house and Rider was…

"Rider's true name is Medusa, you know that right?"

Yes I knew that Rider was the same Gorgon that was killed by the great hero Perseus. Even if I want to forget her true form, I cannot. It is terrifying yet so awe-inspiring at the same time, so I cannot understand why I would even want to forget that image in the first place.

"Sakura summoned her as part of a 'Holy Grail War' two years ago which was the cause of the gas incidents and murders. The Grail was eventually destroyed and with it every Servant that was summoned returned to the 'Throne of Heroes.' Servants can only exist with a steady supply of prana from their Masters."

Prana is a word that I find familiar, I have never actually heard or read that word anywhere before though. Then why do I know what it means and everything that it can do? I mean I shouldn't know the definition of a world I have never seen or heard before, but I know; I know.

"Usually, the Holy Grail supports the summoner or 'Master' in keeping the Servant materialized however Sakura has enough prana to keep Rider materialized without that Grail. Rider will not age and will die the moment Sakura dies."

"So?"

My only word makes it seems like I was not listening to anything my friend had said.

"So? She's not normal. She's not human. She's not like you at all."

I already knew that though, I watched her obliterate a vampire by turning it into stone then reverting to a Gorgon and completely ravaged it, something I only dreamed of seeing in movies and stories. Then she almost sank her tusk-like fangs into my neck. I am well aware, no, more than just well aware.

"I know that Emiya, but isn't that what love is? To accept the bad with the good? I'm going to check up on Rider now, thank you for the explanation, I was wondering why you couldn't graduate with me for a long time, now that has been answered."

I turn and leave my bewildered friend whose mouth is gaping.

* * *

><p>"A long time ago my father told me that my eyes were special and that one day they would be a necessary existence to Ryuudou Issei. Since you are a…" I wonder what the right word would be.<p>

"A magus, we are called magus." She replies as if used to dealing with this situation.

"Yes, a magus, I hope you could tell me what these eyes actually do and what they mean."

The searing sun and humid Japanese summers make humans seek solstice in houses like these and being trapped with people leads to conversations like these with former archery club captains who you never noticed before.

"Firstly, your glasses are called 'Mystic Eye Killers.' Rider also has a pair."

"Since they kill 'Mystic Eyes,' my eyes must be these so-called 'Mystic Eyes.'"

"Indeed, Mystic Eyes are essentially a mutation of the magic circuits near the eyes thereby allowing the eyes to interfere with the external world, like how Rider's eyes are able to turn the target into stone. Usually by activating one's prana one can activate their eyes, but yours don't do that, now do they?"

"No, I do not know how to activate my magic circuits and run prana through them. Yet…"

"Rider tells me that all magecraft that is activated while you look stops working as if it has dissipated am I correct?" But she does not wait for a reply. "It is impossible to eradicate a magecraft unless you know the counter or just nullify it with pure prana. In either case you do not have nearly enough prana. Therefore your eyes just cut the prana supply. Yes that would work. A simply analogy would be cutting a hose when it is turned on. The water or in this case prana just sprays out. And since the magecraft is only cut from its source when it is within your sight that phenomenon must be due to a sort of bounded field. That is the best way I can explain it. However, you were born with this condition?"

"Indeed, I have always seen and killed things that no one else could see."

"Then, that is very peculiar; I cannot believe there is someone that can cast a bounded field which has a field of 'a person's vision' and I believe there are even less people would could make a bounded field that severs the meeting point of the prana and magical foundation. It is almost as if that field was a reality marble."

"Reality Marble?"

"Just my ramblings it's unrelated to your question."

"I see, but Matou-san what do my 'mystic eyes' do?"

"I am unsure and I think we will always be unsure unless the boundary field that protects your eyes is lifted since I cannot use any magecraft to determine what they are while you are looking at me."

"Oh…" My disappointment is in my voice.

"Rider told me that when you took off your glasses, your eyes were an emerald green. She said it was such an overwhelming colour."

"And what does it mean that my eyes were green?"

"That they are definitely not normal mystic eyes."

* * *

><p>It doesn't matter what gender you are or what sort of person you are, everybody loves cute things. At least that is what I keep trying to tell myself when I happen to be shopping at the biggest stuff animal store 'Fancy Store.' I may have been taught English by the Fujimura Taiga, but I know that the name of this store makes no sense of all. It's a gigantic store though, one that little girl's take their father's or brother's to buy them the biggest plush toy they can find. School girls and older women make up the remaining customers telling others and themselves they are choosing a toy for their sister or their daughter respectively. However Rider has chosen this place to end our date. She searches thoroughly through the horse aisles looking for a Pegasus type stuff toy pushing those that do not suit her taste aside. Personally I believe they are all too cute for Rider's taste, but what do I know about women? After a tolerable time left to browsing, she finally looks exasperated and we leave without buying anything at all. A western drama on television once said "the fun is in the chase," it was referring to relationships between men and women; however I believe the same can be said about women and stuffed toys.<p>

The summer days are shortening as the leaves start to lose their brilliant green even if we haven't touched autumn yet. The water reflects the setting golden sun and the same reflection colours this supposedly dark green metal bench with a shiny golden. The only people walking through this park at this time are families taking their evening stroll while walking their dogs. Rider and I eat our convenience store bought dinner. I did ask her if she wanted to eat at a café or a restaurant, however she earnestly declined. I believe the reason is that almost one month ago I shared a convenience store dinner with a creature very similar in appearance to Rider but was completely the opposite in every other way. I'll never forget him and what he did, and I believe Rider will not forget either. That and perhaps she's a bit jealous of the fact we ate together and decided she wanted to try it as well. Either way doesn't matter much because as long as we are together I am satisfied.

"Pity we couldn't find the plush toy you wanted." I try making conversation because such a feat is still agonizing for me.

She's silent for a bit as if thinking about how to answer and then, "It's fine, we don't have to find it today, it was just fun being together."

I'm not sure how to actually answer that so we become silent again.

After a period of time of eating in silence I try again.

"Rider, your boss seems nice."

I refer to the old lady owner of that antique story that keeps trying to give me tea whenever I go visit Rider.

"Medusa, is my name, I like it when you call me Medusa because that was the name I was given."

I look at her funnily.

"Well I have called you Issei since the beginning so…" She starts to shy as if finding fault with her request.

"Then Medusa, that is, if it's okay with you."

Her countenance is the same as always but I know she's a bit happier on the inside.

"Medusa," I say trying the name out. "Matou Medusa is it?"

She laughs a bit, her small white teeth sparkling in the setting sun: "Yes, it would be nice to be Sakura's sister."

It's hard to believe the giggling girl right in front of me is the slayer of heroes and traitor to her gods.

* * *

><p>The three memories are in place.<p>

An explanation of what was, paving the way for what will be.

An explanation of the gift that was given, and the seal that locks this Pandora's Box.

A reverie of days now lost and will be longed for during that long, black night.

They all interweave with each other and wait at the spiral of conflict.

* * *

><p>Once upon a time, I had a sister. She was always to my right and we never strayed apart. We were happy because we could see everything and anything from heaven to earth. We had a master who was known as the father of all gods. He loved to collect pairs; he had a pair of ravens, a pair of wolves and most importantly my sister and I. His ravens would circle around the world each day and tell him everything they had seen. His wolves would be his companions in battle ravenously tearing down our master's opponents. But we were the most important entity to him. Without us there would be no world to see or battles to fight. So when our master was told the price he would have to pay to drink from the well of wisdom he was immediately taken aback but reluctantly agreed.<p>

The giant guarding the well just smiled at the prize he was able to obtain, me. And I was ripped out of my resting place, away from my dear sister, and cast into the well my master would drink from to obtain infinite wisdom. The last memory of my dear sister was how she caught on fire; indeed the water of wisdom must have given her a new power that clearly separated us. And so down I fell, into the almost bottomless well, fading into what seemed naught, further and further away from my dear sister now mutated beyond recognition. Eventually I sank to the bottom of the well, where I could no longer see all the sights from Heaven to Earth. All I could do was dream of those days long past and which would never return. However this was the well that burnt my dear sister, surely it would have an effect on me as well. So I absorbed it, I absorbed all the wisdom and knowledge from the well, I absorbed everything and anything, until I lost count of time itself and the days passed into the eons until one moment in the infinity I spent in this well where I was fished out by sharp talons and wet scales, and as this gigantic, divine being brought me out of that well which was also my prison for so many years, I realized that my pupil, once an azure blue, a twin to my sister's, was now emerald green.

* * *

><p>The shortening days and the laziness which accompanies the cold that suits the name of this town drive me from my rest. But one side of my face is warm and planted on something stiff. On an angle, I turn my head to face what I already knew was there.<p>

She does not regard me at all. She's trying intently to keep reading the large volume in her delicate hands which are slightly roughed because of her work. At odd intervals she brushes the stray hairs from her face back to the gigantic ponytail that she wears in this form. Only when I actually remove my head from her shoulder does she realize I was awake.

"Thank you for that. Sorry I dozed off; it was very warm next to you." I say so, surprisingly without any hint of embarrassment in my voice.

She does not respond, not because she has any objections but because she needs to think of her response first. This usually makes people believe she is silent and critical; her 'title' may be the Lady of Fresh Blood however all she is doing is making sure her response does not insult you or offend anything that has to do with you in any way. And in that respect, it is quite cute, to me anyway.

Maybe it is only cute because she is Medusa; a goddess men worshipped and then labeled a monster. There is no other woman in history that has been maligned as she has, which is sad; however, because she has surpassed that suffering she has turned into the person that I cherish. Still the image that is right next to the normal woman who tries so hard to please everyone is the Magical Beast known as Gorgon, the comet made of the hopes and desires of humanity that turned onto humanity which betray her with their wishes. That night with her fangs, claws, and bronze scales will never fade away from my memory because that is the night I found out what she truly was and accepted the good and the bad. Also not to be taken lightly, but that night I almost died, twice.

She opens her mouth as if finally prepared to say a word, any word, but before her vocal cords move-

Smash

"SENPAI HAS COLLAPSED!"

The door to Medusa's room is smashed open and a plum haired girl looks very desperate and almost in tears.

* * *

><p>He looks human enough; he retained the same orange hair and dense face. His long sleeved shirt and pants are well looked after and ironed out. Therefore the only problem was that the body would not move nor would it respond to any stimuli. Its heart is beating and he is breathing, but he is not alive, there is a glassy look in his eyes as if there is no soul. This is Emiya Shirou, my supposed best friend; two years ago because of the same Holy Grail War that summoned Medusa he lost his original body, this body right here is a puppet even if it feels and operates like flesh. The only reason he obtained such a body is because of some "magic" that happened and his soul was transferred out the destroyed body and into this puppet. I had always wondered why we did not graduate high school together; it was only until I met Medusa I found out the true reason. Since the prana flow, whatever that means, from soul to body is not that stable with this puppet there are times he just stops moving completely, and all we can do is wait and watch this broadcast about a typhoon which is about to hit the city.<p>

* * *

><p>Eventually he had started moving again, it never takes longer than a few minutes; however the most dangerous part is if he stops moving on his bicycle and dies or injures himself greatly in that manner. Usually he stops moving at night, today must have been an expectation; therefore, Matou's distress. It seems those two are living together now, apparently the Matou mansion was sold after the War. Matou Shinji is also missing along will many others, but Matou does not seem worried about him anymore.<p>

"Truly there is a storm brewing."

Medusa's nose is upturned towards the graying sky. She's taller than me, but I never really let that bother me. I believe it does bother her though; she almost seems scared and envious of short, cute girls and always asks me if I am okay with someone of her height. I believe it has something to do with her sisters. I just nod to her statement and continue looking for the produce Sakura told us we needed in preparation of the typhoon. In Fuyuki there always is one or two odd annual typhoons since we live so close to the sea, but they usually never happen during the beginning of autumn, usually they occur in the last half of winter just before the first thawing, so this particular typhoon was eyed with some suspicion and coupled with the fact this originated from the French coast… Meteorologists were just baffled at how this phenomenon was possible. Knowing full well when it was about to hit Fuyuki, we quickened our leisurely pace to try pick up the remaining supplies or suffer Matou's fury, whatever that is.

* * *

><p><span>Interlude<span>

Meteorologists had taken a picture of the approaching storm still very far out on the Sea of Japan. It was moving in a straight line as if it had an exact destination, it would not zigzag over the ocean or display any other movements normal for a typhoon and with a radius of almost five hundred kilometers its damage would cost the government billions. That aside the other aspect of this typhoon that puzzled so many meteorologists was the dense center which seemed to be were all the wind was coming from. Rather than having an "eye," this typhoon had an "epicenter." The military had been called in to analyze it to see if this was some sort of new weapon because it was the point that was driving this storm forward. Some believing the point housed some sort of god and ironically labeled the typhoon a kamikaze, however those who realized how potentially dangerous this storm really was aptly named it 'akukaze.'

Interlude Out

* * *

><p>"King!" A card is forcefully put down and the game draws to a close.<p>

The rest of us laid our fanned cards onto the table in defeat. She has won once again. Even if she looks innocent and sweet, she can be sharp as a thorn, much like the thorny plum. As expected of the former archery captain Matou Sakura. She yelps in victory and with a mischievous smile on her face, takes the final taiyaki we were all playing so earnestly for. Medusa also tries to hide a smug smile as she sips her tea and I begin to suspect an alliance. Medusa would do anything to allow Sakura to win, at anything. However the cheating does not matter as I am able to spend time with these people who are important to me. Ever since I was a child all the way till the beginning of high school, I didn't have many friends; after all, I could see things that no person has the right to see. Also my personality and upbringing in a Buddhist temple did not agree with the progressing society. Of course people came and were nice to me and I was nice to them because they were nice to me; however nobody stayed with me even after I become Student Council President except for Emiya Shirou and after him Medusa who I admit I am obsessed with. Therefore even if it a very selfish thing I would rather be holed up here instead of the temple because even if that is my home, my place to return to, this is the place where I can be me with the people who want to be with me.

The steady pitter-patter of the rain rhythmically hits the metal roofing making that sound that one usually awakens to as we slowly board up the windows. The night sky is covered with a sheet of dark ominous clouds that has covered the world, separating the earth from the sun. It is as the clouds have swallowed the sun. Shivering slightly I recall a western legend about a wolf that ate the moon and its mate that devoured the sun, and with a sense of foreboding I board the final window. Now we cannot gaze at the no longer starry night sky.

"Issei," Medusa's voice rings through the hall from the attic, "Are you finished?"

"Yes!" I call back. "Emiya, Matou are you finished as well?"

"Sakura and I are finished as well."

And knowing that we have all finished out final preparation we return to the communal room, but first…

Ring

Ring

A clear crisp sound from the telephone and Emiya leaves the room to answer it.

"Hello."

The voice can be heard even from this room.

A few sounds of confirmation and then a long silence finally the sound of the telephone being dropped back into its holster and as soon as he enters this room again, with a grim expression on his face he turns to Matou and…

"Sakura, we need to go to the church."

* * *

><p><span>Interlude<span>

This night reminds of that night of fate so long ago. The only difference is that the one who protected me with her life is no longer by my side and in her place is the person I wish to protect. The rhythmic pitter patters off our bright yellow raincoats. There are three raincoats flapping with the wind which is already growing in intensity. The bridge begins to heave and moan as if trying desperately to hold on by its nuts and bolts. If this bridge which has seen so many typhoons is heaving then I am definitely worried about this storm.

"It's not natural," those were her words on the telephone. "Come immediately and take the Grail and her Servant with you, they may be our only hope."

The nun's voice was desperate, the first time I have heard the girl so wound up. However I feel rather bad taking Rider away from Issei. She's the first girl that he has had any sort of interest in, therefore even if I know such a relationship is wrong Sakura and I agreed to support them and keep them with each other at all possible cost. While I am sure we are full of good intentions I only believe we are just meddling in other's affairs.

After walking through the seemingly never weakening rain we eventually reach the church on top of the hill, its steeple roof and guarded feel make it seem like a citadel. I never liked coming here since this is where that priest lived.

A fuzzy memory seeps through my mind.

-No pain just swords.

-I am the bone of my sword.

-Therefore it does not hurt.

-No pain, only the knowledge we each only had a few seconds to survive and the fact that we could never accept each other.

I could not acknowledge his goal or his existence.

Even if somewhere deep down in the depths of my heart I actually liked him.

However I cannot forgive him because of all those children left orphaned by the fire… he destroyed their future. Underneath this church was a special chamber where rotting bodies were kept alive. This room was found when his replacement moved in and beheld the 'holy' site. It still haunts me that I could have easily been one of those rotting corpses if only I was not adopted by Kiritsugu. Even so that is not the reason I hate him so much. He endangered Sakura. His goal included the corruption and destruction of the person I promised to protect; therefore I will never forgive him. Emiya Shirou is a person who does not care what happens to himself as long nothing happens to those close to him.

The doors open with the soft accompaniment of a silver-haired girl playing the organ.

Caren Ortensia.

That priest's daughter, current supervisor of this church and the one who discovered the bodies in the church.

"Emiya, Matou, Rider," she inclines her head. "Matou as you are the second owner of this land, I must…"

Sakura uncharacteristically cuts her off: "I am not the second owner yet, my sister…"

And Caren cuts her of seamlessly and characteristically: "I understand that, substitute, but by the time your sister gets from the Clock Tower to here we will be nothing but dust in the wind and this town will just be a sooty blot next to the sea." Her ominous voice changes into a threat, "a storm is coming, no, it has arrived."

Her words are obviously ambiguous.

"The typhoon is then not natural?" asks Rider.

"I am surprised Servant. I believed you of all beings would sense this atrocious prana."

Rider looks insulted.

"I'll lay it down as bluntly as possible; a True Ancestor is coming."

Sakura looks at her disbelieving: "They have all died out; definitely, they were wiped out nine hundred years ago by the massacring White Princess."

"Indeed, the church was sure; however, this typhoon is naturally occurring."

"However it is not typhoon season…" I start to comprehend.

"In the epicenter is a dense ball of prana, it's unmoving therefore we suspect something is in it and controlling the storm. Since it is a natural storm… Marble Phantasm."

Even I have heard of that ability, the power to bend nature to one's image, an offshoot of a Reality Marble.

"Could it be Sumire the Water Demon? Why does it have to be a True Ancestor?"

I cannot comprehend Sakura's question.

"That Dead Apostle Ancestor lives in the sea, this typhoon happened to come from mainland France. Currently the known Dead Apostles that live there cannot actualize a Marble Phantasm."

"A rouge elemental? Or even…"

"That's why we turn to her." The nun in black turns to Rider her yellow eyes sparkling. "Three months ago you killed a vampire, right?"

Rider nods and I cannot scratch-out the image of the aftermath of the bridge's park from my mind.

"Describe him."

Rider gulps and starts: "He could change into any person after ingesting their DNA. He was able to perform a simple ritual magecraft with some preparation and with a one line aria thereby he possessed a thaumaturgical crest otherwise he seemed like a normal Dead Apostle."

Caren nods, "He was a French magus who had a sealing designation against his name. He lived in an area where the Church had extraordinary influence so it is doubtful a vampire changed him, neither is there any evidence his research touched on vampirism; therefore the only way for him to actually become a Dead Apostle is…"

"True Ancestor," we all conclude in unison.

"Against one of Gaia's Counter Force our only hope is," she points at Sakura, "the Fuyuki Grail and all  
>the evils in the world."<p>

"How long would it take for reinforcements to arrive from the Church?" I ask hoping not to involve  
>Sakura in anything dangerous again.<p>

"Senpai, I'll do it, last time you protected me so now it's my turn to protect you."

Caren fakes a retching.

"Well then," I slowly start. "Let's get ready."

"I'll call Issei and tell him to stay indoors." Rider leaves to find the church's telephone.

No matter what situation, Rider always informs Issei. It's cute in a Caren retching way.

"What's the plan?" Sakura asks a vital question.

"Just Use that trillion units of prana of yours to just blow him away." Her reply is blunt and simple.

"…The bystanders? The Mage Association?"

"Right now you are both under Church protection. Emiya is legally dead to the Association and Church; at least that is what it says in Kotomine's report."

She always had referred to her father by name because it seems they have never been close.

"Do you at least know where the True Ancestor is right now?" Sakura seems very determined at bringing a dawn to this long night.

"No," a blank answer.

"That's…"

Rider's head pops out of the door and in a grave voice: "There is no one in the Emiya household picking up."

Interlude out

* * *

><p>"One day you will need those eyes of yours as no power is given without need, there is a reason you have them, a reason the Ryuudou house inherits them; however, until then I want you to live as normally as you can, so here."<p>

I hinge the pair onto my face and the moment I can longer see those colourful lights or those ephemeral blobs.

I realize that I can finally see the continuation to that dream.

"Those glasses which are a family heirloom and accompanied by a story, so listen carefully to what I am about to impart to you for this is the story of Ryuudou and Ryuudouji." His eyes, so kind just a minute  
>Ago, are now grave. "A long time ago the head monk of this temple had two children, a son and daughter. The son was full of vigor and very brave, but with braveness, not to be mistaken with courage, comes brashness. The daughter however was reserved and pretty on the outside and secretly she was strong-willed which at that time was frowned upon. Eventually there was a war and the son paid no attention to his father and ran to join the army and died. So the temple, at that time not called Ryuudouji, was left without an heir. The head monk decreed that whoever was to marry his daughter would be the next head monk. No one wanted to be head monk after all it was and still is a tough job. So the head monk was left with a dead son and a daughter that no one would marry. One day as the cherry blossoms fell the daughter was drawing water from the well, you see its right there, and found a dragon collapsed right next to it. Naturally the temple was in an uproar and the daughter was left to take care of the beast and in about a week the dragon had recovered. After it had recovered they took a walk right here and the girl asked the dragon how he became injured? The dragon replied that he had come from a distant land and because he had taken a treasure he was chased by an army of youkai. At the mention of youkai the sky darkened and the monks of the temple reported that metal youkai on winged horses carrying blazing katana's and metal shields were arriving. The dragon sadly told the daughter that, yes, indeed these were the youkai and that the temple would perish. The dragon said he did not want innocents to pay for what he did and he would let himself be killed because even if he returned the treasure the youkai would show him no mercy. The girl cried out because she could not let such a noble creature die. She protested so vehemently that those who thought of her as a reserved and pretty daughter completely changed their opinion. So indignant were her words that eventually the monks agreed to fight with the dragon against the youkai even if they were outnumbered. The dragon produced the treasure that he had taken from the youkai. It was a green gemstone only big as an eyeball. It glowed and pulsated like star. The dragon asked the daughter guard the treasure and right after she was handed the treasure that this dragon flew around to the world to protect; she swallowed it as if was a pill. Everyone was surprised until the daughter asked them what better place to put a treasure than in one's stomach, but that was not what everyone was surprised about. The daughter's eyes which used to be as dark as ebony now were green as the gemstone was. However the daughter felt no different and the youkai were almost upon them. As the first youkai came into the view of the daughter she realized that would be unable to enter the temple if there was a field around it. The dragon being a mystical creature was able to use magic and he quickly created a bounded field around the temple so the youkai could not enter the temple. The youkai had no bows so they were quickly dispatched by the monk archers. The dragon asked the daughter how she could have possibly known about the youkai's weakness and the daughter didn't know; she did not have the 'vision' before. Then the dragon asked the daughter to marry him but she could not accept because even if she had grown fond of the dragon, he was still a dragon and she a human. When she voiced that he gaffed and it started to rain and as the first drop of rain caressed the dragon there was no longer a dragon, but a handsome young man, and as the first drop of rain touched the daughter there was no longer a daughter, but a handsome young dragon. The handsome man smiled softly and asked the handsome dragon how she felt. The daughter now turned into dragon just laughed and agreed the marry the handsome man and without asking for the father's blessing the man returned to his dragon form and the two dragons dived into Minogawa and lived there ever since and every year we celebrate Ryuuji Matsuri on the day the youkai were defeated." He finished the long story with a sigh.<p>

I don't know why but I always thought that it was a sad story because even if the dragon and the daughter became happy in the end what about the head monk and the temple? That dragon was also definitely in the wrong about stealing something of the youkai and the only reason the daughter agreed to marry that man is because she knew that one should would have to marry the successor to the temple therefore she decided to forsaken that duty for the dragon. It really is a sad story no matter how cheery people make it out to be. This may be the story of Ryuudouji but it is not the story of me. I don't even know how it relates to my power.

* * *

><p>Ring<p>

Ring

The constant chiming of that telephone wakes me from my light slumber. I know that I was dreaming, I cannot remember what type of dream and what significance it had to me though. Picking up my light body from the tatami mat I pick up the phone still singing its two note song.

"Hello." I start with the customary beginning.

"Issei? Is that you? Thank god you're here." It's my brother and he sounds so desperate that this cannot be a joke.

"Brother, what is it?" I ask him

There is a sense of urgency from his voice: "Stay indoors, no matter what, stay indoors, do not go outside, please don't. This storm which is raging outside, it is not a storm, it is a tempest. It will utterly destroy you. The Temple is almost completely wreaked and all the monks are wounded or worse."

I don't understand it. I just don't accept it. "What? How can a st- tempest get into a house?"

"Just do-"he is cut short.

"Brother…Brother!"

"Beeeeep." The line is dead, possibly along with my brother.

"Dammit!"

I hit the desk holding the phone with my fist but I don't have the time be angry.

I grab my coat hanging where it should be, the coat rack, and with the final spare raincoat poncho in hand I step out into the typhoon. I know my brother told me not to go out, but I have to, he should have known that, that is why he called me. He wants me to save him, and he believes I am the only person that can, ironic that my brother has always been stronger than me.

* * *

><p>The weather is tolerable, just barely tolerable. Emiya's spare raincoat flutters and splutters with the wind and my glasses continually fog up, but, still, as fast as I can, I move towards the Temple. Usually it would take forty minutes if I make haste; however, that is impossible in these conditions. Anything that is not nailed to the ground is swept up with the wind and there are times where the updraft seems to lift me in the air as well. This is dangerous and I may trip but still I move and keep telling myself to move. I left a note for Medusa which stated where I have gone and why. I am sure she will be very displeased with me but I can deal with that later because right now….<p>

A flash of red streaks beside me.

-And the me who was moving as fast as I could completely stops.

My feet do not touch the ground anymore as I am just struggling for air, struggling so hard that I forgot to look at the "thing" holding me with its vice-like grip.

GET OUT OF HERE

My brain which is lacking oxygen screams that statement over and over. It was the same feeling I had towards the vampire just a season ago, this is something that is not human, just look at its red eyes and perfectly trimmed brown hair. His perfectly chisel face opens up to reveal fangs that no human should possess, but he does not lower my neck to his teeth; I can see that his mouth is already filled with red.

He is the tempest that tore the Temple away.

In that moment for the first time in my life I want to kill it.

But I can't. I know from previous experience that this is a being that could kill me with just its pinky.

Air rushes through my body and the raincoat is blown away, we are airborne, he has jumped so impossibly high that we may as well be flying; floating but we've travelled all the way across the river, and while airborne he swallows a mouthful of blood and with his raspy voice:

"WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS THE WHITE PRINCESS?"

He's insane; the mad look in his eyes is universal.

"I KNOW SHE IS HERE, YOU CANNOT HIDE HER. SHE IS THE ONLY THING THAT COULD HAVE POSSIBLY KILLED LEON, EVEN THE CHURCH CANNOT KILL MY SERVANT THEREFORE, WHERE IS SHE?"

I don't know what he is talking about, but I know for a fact that Medusa is definitely not a white princess. She's a goddess.

I do not answer because I do not have an answer to answer with so with a roar he drops me from about fifty meters above ground onto a concrete pavement.

I'm falling.

It's obvious.

But I felt like saying it.

After all I am about to die.

No human can survive a fifty meter fall.

My final thoughts are not "Who is this White Princess?" or "Why me?"

My final thought cannot be as complex as those because like all humans about to die the only thing on my mind is the mantra that all humans live by

-I don't want to die.

* * *

><p>Before my eyes is a flash that signifies my progression into the next world. No. It's grey. That colour that just streamed past me is definitely an iron grey. It was so subtle because of the darkened clouds and the same flash from the right side as well. Slowly I notice it cannot be the light to another life but a metal chain that now enwraps me. It reminds me of that time I watched a program on television about a man who would rope cows in. In America I think they were called "cowboys." I remember that because when I stated that they should do that with horses, Medusa seemed mightily offended at the idea.<p>

And that's when I realize I won't die today because the person on the other end of that chain which encircles me is Medusa. Therefore I know I will be fine and she'll use her superhuman strength to pull me back into her arms.

I look up at her stoic possibly completely expressionless face, that's the sort of person Medusa isn't.

"Ironic that you would disagree with using a 'lasso' to pull in horses, but be fine with doing so to me."

Now she's angry, not at my remark, but at my foolishness. Just like that night I was at that cemetery. She drops me onto the concrete street with a thud and:

"Just stay there, we'll handle the rest."

As her figure leaves for the battlefield in a tight, black one piece, I realize why her title is the Lady of Fresh Blood.

* * *

><p>The vampire roars because he was unable to see blossoming roses so he stops floating in the sky and dives down to earth after he notices the four new playthings.<p>

Opening his gaping mouth he intends to crush the first combatant, Medusa, in a heartbeat. But he is sure she will not be killed after all he intends to interrogate out the whereabouts of his true target.  
>However Medusa does not let him.<p>

"She's a comet streaming through the battlefield after all. She uses her environment to her advantage and since most of the inhabitants have already been evacuated to the public gymnasium under the guise of "typhoon protection" she does not have to worry about damage to the buildings." A female voice shouts but barely able to convey the message to me proving how strong those winds actually are.

"I know you." I whisper trying to place a name to that face.

The girl with platinum hair and almost golden orbs regards me who is still on the ground.

"Of course, it would be laughable if you did not know who I was Mr. Successor of Ryuudouji."

"You're from the church…"

Yes it was a laughable that I did not recognize her from sight. She's from the opposite side of town and from the opposite religion.

"Does this have anything to do with you?" I try not to make my tone sound too accusing.

"No, but it has everything to do with you." Her tone is obviously accusing.

I push myself off the ground and dust this new pair of pants.

"Yes, I know, but who is this White Princess he's talking about?"

"She is the Princess of the Vampires basically."

"Why would he think she killed his servant then?"

"It's a complicated history that you do not need to know. The only thing that you should know is that this 'thing' here wants to kill her and he thinks she's here."

"I…"

Bang-

The vampire has finally crashed into the middle of the road. No one was hurt but the gigantic crater in the middle of the road begs to differ.

He roars.

His howl is an insane lamentation that only those of his species would understand.

"He is a True Ancestor that has tasted blood too often. He is now a Demon Lord and for that crime deserves to die." The nun solemnly speaks as if this were a shriving.

His howl becomes comprehensible, it is a challenge:

"COME! COME OUT AND PLAY, ARCUIED WE ARE THE FINAL TWO TRUE ANCESTORS ON THIS PLANET NOW. IT IS TIME TO SETTLE OUR DIFFERENCES. YOU WILL REGRET WHEN YOU CALLED ME THE WEAKEST.  
>I HAVE SURVIVED LONGER THAN ANY OF OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS."<p>

DIE

DIE DIE

DIE DIE DIE

An immaterial arrow is released from an immaterial bow. It's is pulsing with a black mud that screams of curse. Even someone like me can tell that this is a fatal shot-

The immaterial mud is literally snapped in half by the vampire's claws.

-to a human.

This vampire is definitely of a different caliber to the one that Medusa killed.

"WAS THAT ALL THE EVILS IN THE WORLD? HA! IT IS NOTHING COMPARED TO I, ABDIEL!"

He makes no movement because he needs no movement. He is having fun while we scamper around so desperately because if he wanted to kill us we would already be dead, but either because he is having too much fun or he has underestimated her his gleeful face turns to one of puzzlement.

Obviously it's the fact that his hands have Medusa's chains all over them.

* * *

><p><span>Interlude<span>

"Trace-On."

A suggestion that changes my internal world.

I have seen all the swords in Archer's repository before his arm corroded and destroyed my brain and since memories stay in the soul I am able to project every sword in his repertoire, so right now I am about to project the sword that will end this fight.

I stare at it.

I stare at the one sword sticking out of that boundless hill of swords that can kill a monster like this.

I stare at the sword which killed Rider.

"Trigger off"

Nine in my head. I use all twenty seven magic circuits and smash them in one go.

Medusa's chains are starting the heave and crack like the bridge behind us.

Only one slash is necessary before the monster's longevity is refracted so I step forward for the kill,  
>However…<p>

-My phantasm shatters after clashing with a stronger fantasy and fades into naught.

The sickle that killed Rider at her peak of her reign as the mistress of the Shapeless Isle doesn't even touch this creature.

I don't understand. The sword I projected was flawless, even Perseus himself would not recognize the difference therefore…

-the protection around this True Ancestor must be more ancient than the curse of a blade from the age  
>of gods.<p>

The chains finally snap and Death rushes towards me.

It is so much like that day; the day I judged myself and chose the method that would keep me alive longer. Just this time I have no weapon to project neither do I have a sister to protect me.

This time death will rush towards me to pierce me through the heart.

Interlude Out

* * *

><p>Red<p>

rEd

reD

It hurts.

Even if the concept does not damage my soul it still really hurts.

Why do I always end up having a vampire's claw in my chest?

I cough, and all that comes out is blood.

"ISSEI!"

It's Medusa. I know that it's her because Emiya is too shocked to speak.

"If you want to save your friend...run, now." Those were the nun's words final words to me.

And I took them to heart so here I am, my chest pierced and my face smeared with blood.

My glasses?

Where are my glasses?

Right where I put them, in my chest pocket.

O…

I slump down my eyes no longer facing those blood red eyes of the vampire.

"ISSEI!"

My face hits the cold hard ground because Medusa kicked the vampire with all her strength and sent him flying.

Oh.

Everyone is running towards me.

Oh.

Matou draws close telling me that's going to be okay.

No it's not. Medusa is fighting furiously and therefore recklessly, also your alignment means that you are not capable yet of using a healing spell.

Don't try to do something you can't.

But I'm puzzled, how do I know she's using a healing spell or that she does not have the affinity to be able to heal?

* * *

><p><span>Interlude<span>

Rider was always passionate about Issei, much unlike her feelings for Sakura. Rider would always do what Sakura said with a quiet professional air, it was a fondness between sisters. Even in that cavern when we killed that girl who died to protect me Rider never succumbed to the rage she was displaying now.

A kick that could easily gouge out the stomach of a human is blocked by an uppercut.

Every strike with those nail daggers is blocked or parried with just a palm.

It's frightening to watch a Servant so helpless.

And he is the weakest of the True Ancestors.

The difference in power is overwhelming; it's a gap that all the evils of the world cannot cross.

But that's obvious because isn't evil something created by humans?

This is a being created by the earth itself and therefore its power is greater than anything humanity could create.

Yet…

Why aren't we rolling over to die?

Because there is always another way, no matter how hopeless the situation.

That is the lesson my sister taught me with her life.

So…

"Trace-On"

And in an instant the twin Chinese blades Archer favored so much are in my hands.

These aren't brilliant blades but they are sturdy and reliable. These were his weapons of choice for a reason. Then there's no way he hasn't come up with an ultimate attack to get him through countless battles and since I absorbed all his experiences before his Reality Marble pierced my mind, so...

Two curves.

Yin and Yang are attracted to each other.

Consecutive projection, keep the basic technique.

-I reach it in an instant and move.

"Divine skill, flawless and firm."

I throw them.

I charge them with as much magical energy as I can muster, and throw them from both sides, targeting the enemy's neck.

The two blades draw an arc so they intersect right on the enemy.

The blades draw a beautiful cross.

It is impossible to come out of such an attack unscathed so Rider retreats knowing that my intention is to finish him with this.

But my enemy is not of this world, he almost "is" this world. Therefore he easily redirects the blades behind him and then roaring at the thought of a human's blade touching him he closes the space in a matter of seconds.

Having inherited Archer's speed and strength I match him as I charge in unarmed.

"Freeze Out." My incantation can barely be heard over the monster's insane lamentation.

The newly projected twin blades block his charge but strain at the pressure that they are under until...

His mouth, so apt to drinking the lifeblood of so many human, screeches and in that instant the attack stops before I can project again. Even if I can take this scream the twin swords that blocked his onslaught cannot, neither can the twin swords in the air behind him; therefore without even being completed, Archer's ultimate technique is destroyed.

Time freezes.

I take a moment to assess the situation because he cannot.

All four of my swords have been broken and I am left with an opening right in front of me. No matter how one looks at the situation I am…

A vampire's claw comes in to rip my heart out.

I don't have a moment to understand that I will die.

I don't have a moment to realize that in the next moment I won't be alive.

I don't have a moment to regret that in the last moment I should have run away.

I don't…

Abdiel's body is thrown up into the air and with it the claw that was about to rip out the point of my new body.

Without moving I notice that in the place where he was standing is a gaping hole.

No. It's not a hole, a hole would not be that pitch black and

DIE

In horror I turn to the place Issei had fallen over.

There she is almost completely robed in darkness.

"SAKURA!"

But I failed to notice her hair is still a shade of plum.

"Senpai, I can control it." She sounds like she cannot and that crushes my heart.

However that shadow giant is our only chance of ever surviving. That is the final materialization of the curses that destroyed countries, and slowly…

It is being eaten away and absorbed by the vampire.

All the evils of the world was a curse designed by humans and for humans therefore there is a limit of what it can do for demons and elementals. While the raw prana should have done at least some damage the vampire is completely unscathed.

"ARGGGH." Rider lets out a roar of frustration. "Why won't you just DIE!"

I have never seen Rider this worked up before and maybe is because Issei limited her tactics by making her promise that she would never use her monstrous form again, not that I would ever want to see her like that.

Almost in a violent swipe, she tears off Gorgon Breaker and captures Abdiel with her eyes and the black cavalryman charges at the child of the moon.

And immediately an anguished Sakura and a frozen me shut our eyes.

I admit that I have seen Rider's pupils and lived to tell the tale. They are as cold as glass and as square as a block. No one can look upon them and be fine which is why I doubt that this vampire can either, no matter what sort of protection he may have. Even that girl when eaten up by the shadow proved to weaken at the power of the eyes.

"DAMMIT." Rider's frustration is accompanied by an incessant laughter.

Nothing has changed and even if I cannot watch the two fighting, I can hear the skirmishes. The only thing keeping Rider alive is her pure rage; funny how those who take the longest to burn are those who burn the brightest.

When the current exchange of blows is complete they both retreat. Rider for the first time that I have ever known her lets out a roar that is soon drowned out by the vampire's own insane lamentation. I am sure it's a sight that is almost poetic, roaring at the rain while the winds are let their deafening sound be heard creating, almost, a barrier that locks us away from safe reality.

Slit

The sound of metal breaking skin cannot be forgotten. It is a sound that will remain in my memory not matter how much time will pass and so against good sense I open my eyes to

-a world awash with blood. Rider had just slit her own throat and the blood streaming is just overflowing and the instant Rider lowers her stance the summoning circle is complete. A giant eye bounded by blood materializes from the stream of blood that was slowly diluted by the rain.

This is unlike the fight in the cavern; here Rider will not need any help from me at all. My role this time is…

"Trace-On."

I again ready the image of the sword that slaid Rider. It is the only weapon in Archer's repertory that can effectively kill something that is immortal.

My role is to attack and kill Abdiel the moment his shield is destroyed by…

My thought is cut off by the comet that will attack in the next second.

"VAMPIRE!" Rider's image is so distorted with hatred that she is almost unrecognizable.

"AHAHAH COME YOU FAILURE OF A GODDESS. I ONLY WISH TO FIGHT WITH A REAL ONE, NOT A FAILURE LIKE YOU!" The vampire mocks her but does not move, it knows it can withstand this attack, but he underestimates Rider.

"Bellero-"

Its true name is cast. Rider's figure instantly covered in white.

The distance between the two is at least five hundred meters maybe even more, the last skirmish had knocked them both back violently, but Rider can cross that distance in a second because; one, there are no buildings in between Abdiel and her, and two Rider has become an arrow of light. This is the miracle a Noble Phantasm bears and the price one has to pay for injuring the consort of a Gorgon.

"PHON-!"

It is truly divine lightning because the moment that it touches the child of the moon, the world is covered with light.

Interlude out

* * *

><p>"That was not the end of the story of Ryuudou and Ryuudoji because the head monk still did not have anyone to inherit the Temple, and his daughter, the only method he could get someone to become head monk, had eloped he was in despair. Years past and with each passing winter the head monk grew older and older. And soon he knew that it was almost his time to go into the afterlife. The day after the annual Ryuudouji Matsuri a boy, no older than ten, wearing the same eye glasses I had given you arrived at the temple declaring that he was the new head monk. The monks scoffed and ridiculed his eyewear saying it made him look like a fool and then telling him to go back to his mother, but the boy insisted that he was the next head so the elder monks decided to test him. He was to fight every monk that was able to use Houjutsushi. The boy agreed, so all the monks that were well versed in those skills encircled him. The battle was horrible, after all he was a boy, he was thrashed and humiliated, and there was no hope for a victory but just before the elder monks announced the boys defeat the boy got back up and took off his eyeglasses and at that moment none of the monk's sutras worked. One monk who was able to call forth pillars of flames could no longer even make a cinder. One monk famous for changing the weather could not even call forth a gentle breeze. One monk who was known for his ability to calm the seas could not draw water from the well without a bucket. One monk with the ability of making the harvest grown bountiful could not even make bean sprout and finally the monk said to be the most talented at Houjutsushi who could do all these things, in addition to allowing spirits take a tangible shape could not do anything. The boy then drew blood from a cut the monks had caused and smeared it onto both eyes and then without saying a word the monks all fell to the ground, out of energy. The boy had done something none of the monks knew. At this time the head monk slowly hobbled out to see what the fuss was about and then when he saw the boy he dropped his walking stick. The boy's eyes were emerald green, the same color of his daughter's on the day the youkai came. The head monk welcomed the boy as the next head monk and he was given the nickname of Dragon and the house of that boy's decedents were and still are called Ryuudou. And that is the true story of the Ryuudou house and Ryuudouji Temple that accompanies these glasses which I am giving you."<p>

My father looked deeply into my eyes now shielded by the same glasses that courageous boy wore.

"Now run off, but please never forget what I told you."

I have to admit that I had forgotten the story, and what an important story it is. Now I know, it has taught me who I am and what I can do. That's important because right now, these eyes have become an existence that is necessary to Ryuudou Issei.

I notice a brilliant white light wash through the world, and with a start I wake up to reality.

The sky, so gray, is ripped open by the ferocity of the explosion that has just occurred. Surely even those who evacuated to Fuyuki's public gymnasium would have heard it.

A gigantic crater in the middle of the main street.

Medusa's Pegasus whose defense is equal to a dragon's is crushed under this vampire.

And Medusa has a vampire claw around her neck.

I'm angry.

Even if it hurts I'm angry.

For the first time in my life I am actually angry.

Even that wary hatred I felt for Tohsaka is nothing compared to this.

And the vampire looks right into my eyes and then steps back.

The feat is small and only symbolic but we both understand the significance of it. This vampire had taken on a Pegasus without moving and now he stepped back when he saw the eyes of a pitiful, wounded boy who was being protected by a woman the vampire could kill in a second, a girl struggling with her inner darkness, and a man who had lost everything to gain something he considered small.

Of course as a "True Ancestor" he would be angry, even frightened, at his own reaction which is why he dropped Medusa and is rushing towards me with such an expression almost branded on the face I once thought was handsome.

There is no weapon that can penetrate that shield of his. I can see it now that my vision is only blurred by my own blood. Even my bounded field cannot destroy that shield because my bounded field only destroys magecraft when magecraft is activated. The shield is created from the lost rune that is marked on his heart; his body is coated with high density prana that only the greatest divine mysteries can penetrate. The image of a black barrel appears in my mind, then a dark drill, then a crimson spear, and finally a sword that is the collection of the world's "glory." I do not have access to any of these weapons therefore it should be impossible to penetrate his shield, but as long as I am alive there is hope because no matter how small the weakness is I will find it. I will find it even if cold Death is rushing towards me in the rain which chills my bones.

* * *

><p><span>Interlude<span>

As soon as Bellerophon could not penetrate that vampire's defenses I released the image of Harpe but then Abdiel seemed intent on killing a standing Issei. Rider was thrown on the ground cursing her helplessness; therefore, I had to save that person. No, not Issei; I confess even if he is my friend I wouldn't be traumatized if he died, but only if Sakura survived and right now Sakura is still struggling with Angra Mainyu while trying to protect a weaponless Issei. She will die. This vampire will not stop in his attempt to kill Issei, and if Sakura is in his way she will definitely die. I definitely don't want that.

So I have three seconds to save them.

I recall this same event in a distant, dark corner of my memory.

This time though, my mind is clear and there is no fear therefore I understand the scope of my power.

Projection using creation concept, basic structure, composition, production technique, growth experience, and accumulated years. A Reality Marble that inverts the world engraved on your soul, the embodiment of the mental world using the theory of magic, the World Egg. Inheritance of battle technique, and physical strength from Archer. Reality Marble, "Unlimited Blade Works", isn't usable. Archer's world and mine are different. I can't reproduce it. I can only reproduce what Emiya Shirou has learned, or the Noble Phantasms he has recorded. If I'm to use a Noble Phantasm, I have to search within "Unlimited Blade Works" for the Noble Phantasm best suited for the situation and reproduce it.

So, I search.

I search.

Search.

Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it Find it

-Two seconds.

But I can't, I can't find the Noble Phantasm that can defeat this vampire.

I have to save Sakura, but right now I cannot just like that fire filled day.

I was empty back then.

Everyone died and I could not save anyone.

I could not bear the fear in front of me unless I gave up saying that humans are weak.

But you changed all that.

You gave me something singular to fight for, and for that I sacrificed that ideal which was so important to me.

-I chose this path so I could walk it with you.

There is no point if you aren't there with me, because even if there is nothing brilliant on this path…

-Without you on it there is nothing at all.

So,

What he believed in.

What I believe in.

This is where he reached at the end of his life, the world that is transcendently different to my own.

He said they were all fake, but he went through with his hypocrisy.

"Trace-On"

An infinite creation of swords floods through my brain and through all twenty-seven circuits.

I will make my limited circuit handle an unlimited amount of projections because if I cannot produce his world to save my beloved, I will project every single sword in this hill of fakes to save her.

"I am the bone of my sword."

That's right; I am the bone of my sword so I can endure most things.

So I'll take it all.

It doesn't hurt, because I know I only have

-one second.

Blades rupture from my back. Piling on top of each other as if scales; as if wings.

Wings that will not let me fly, but wings to keep me bounded to the ground so I can stay with Sakura.

These wings of swords are my sins.

These wings of swords are my regrets.

But they are my also my atonement and resolve to keep moving on this path I have chosen.

This is not a desolate wasteland one reaches at the end of his path.

These are wings that fix one to his path.

Wings made from the infinite creation of swords.

These are Emiya Shirou's infinite crosses to bear.

"Trigger-off"

And in one motion I flick Abdiel away from Sakura and into a building.

I have not only produced every blade in Unlimited Blade Works, but I have also reproduced all the strength of the wielders of those blades, so right now I have the combined strength of Heracules, Perseus, Roland, Sigurd, Musashi, Charlemagne, Beowulf, Arturia and even more.

But this burden is heavy and it hurts, after all over a thousand blades ripped through my shoulder blades to form these structures. But I cannot worry at the moment because the person who means to world to me doubling over in pain.

"Sakura, I'm sorry but I have to punish you for breaking your promise to never again use Angra Mainyu again. So steel yourself because this will hurt, again."

Her clouding eyes turn towards me after hearing my voice.

Without thought I reach for the dagger that breaks all contracts, the witch's dagger, from my wings and it sails right into my hands. Then will one clean strike I purify the mud and break Sakura away from the curse again. She exhales deeply as if a burden on her body and mind has just been released for the second time.

By this time Abdiel has clawed his way out of the destroyed building and with a seething voice that boarded on sanity, "Who are you?"

My only answer is a strike to the abdomen with an English longsword, but that unbreakable sword is instantly shattered by his indestructible claws, and as he returns that blow I end up defending quickly with an Indian hammer.

Sparks and the sound of screeching metal.

Blows that were steadily accelerating until they reached the point of being invisible.

I'm keeping up.

I'm keeping up with this monster.

Even so, every blade I pull out of my wings is immediately broken. It's not my mistake, every blade is projected to almost perfection because I am using Archer's information to project these blades, so then the only answer would be that these blades are too weak to fight against a being like Abdiel. There is a difference between keeping up and winning. My goal in the next minutes is to find the bridge between those two conclusions because if I stay like this I will eventually lose because these projections, no matter how perfect, will one day fade into naught and then these hands will not hold anything.

So I extend this moment into an eternity.

I rip open the boundary between Archer's mind and my own. Ever since his arm was fused with my body he has become part of me and even if his arm and Reality Marble is no longer invading my body, my soul still remembers memories and experiences. Those experiences are painful, those memories are full of despair, but he overcame all of those; after all, that is the only reason he could stand so tall when being blown by that steel wind that is the magecraft known as projection. So he has a way; he has to have a way of defeating something, anything, stronger than what he can defeat, not an ultimate technique but a trump card.

My hand returns once again to the red penalty that no longer exists.

Restoring the rank of the degraded Noble Phantasm.

Focus on the raw power. The second Fake Spiral Sword.

The longer the interval the faster the hound of the shadow plains runs.

Do not shatter the fantasy but break it.

Excess prana from humanity itself.

Therefore the answer is the question: "What class was he summoned into?"

Emiya Shiou and Heroic Spirit EMIYA are two separate beings even if they shared the same origin. I understand that, but I also under that we have something in common, the martial art that I threw away and the martial art that he turned into his trump card.

Yes, Emiya Shirou is like much like Heroic Spirit EMIYA.

We are not swordsmen and we were not summoned as blacksmiths; we are archers.

I quickly kick away the vampire with all my strength to put some distance between us.

"Trace-on."

The projection process is started one more time because the weapon I tracing this time is not stored within Unlimited Blade Works. Unlimited Blade Works could not store this weapon, because it is the bow that EMIYA maintained so well that it could handle even…

"Trigger-off"

The projection takes less than a second; after all, if Heroic Spirit EMIYA has truly become part of Emiya Shirou then this projection should be one that happens without any thought.

Abdiel notices to change, after seeing my new power he has grown wary. But even if he is the weakest of the True Ancestors he is still a True Ancestor therefore it should be no problem warding whatever will come.

"I am the bone of my sword."

"Caladbolg."

…Noble Phantasm, the crystallized mysteries of the Heroic Spirits themselves.

The fake spiral sword is changed into a fake spiral arrow and is shot then broken.

Broken Phantasm, Archer's trump card.

By overflowing the Noble Phantasm with prana the Noble Phantasm breaks as if detonating like a bomb. Of course for Heroic Spirits this technique is the same as admitting defeat because breaking one's own Noble Phantasm is the equivalent to committing suicide, but this was the technique of the hero of justice whose Noble Phantasm was the infinite desolate wasteland filled with swords..

A gigantic explosion that seems even to disrupt the ongoing typhoon with its boom and the street is awash with flames, much like that day where I reached for that salvation that I did not believe would ever come.

Even with the pouring rain the flames are fueled by the debris of the explosion, I shudder to think about the clean up when this typhoon is over, but in the midst of the flames I can see the shadow of a man still standing. I did not doubt that he would withstand the attack; after all he withstood and defeated an A+  
>Noble Phantasm, there is no way he would be defeated by one attack equivalent to an A rank Noble Phantasm. Just as well because like Archer, I am also an archer, and these wings…<p>

-are a quiver of Noble Phantasms.

And so with all the speed I can muster I charge and shoot these priceless weapons at the motionless figure.

And so my rain of fire replaces the rain of the heavens.

* * *

><p>Even with all those Broken Phantasms he has not been damaged.<p>

Thrown around, yes.

Beaten down, no.

He just walks slowly towards me until he is thrown back due to the force of another Broken Phantasm and then he just gets back up again and returns on his trudge each time just roaring: "WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS THE WHITE PRINCESS?"

I do not know who this White Princess is. I do not know where this White Princess is. But I do know that I cannot defeat him even with these wings that are the contents of Archer's world.

Scared.

I'm actually terrified.

Even when I was fighting with my life against that priest I was not this scared.

Scared, just like him when…

-All I can see is a slash.

There is no body. There are no eyes.

Just a slash that should have killed him.

But he survived it. He survived that slash and recorded the weapon that was used because even if he only saw it for a split second, he understood everything about that weapon. I believe that weapon may be the true treasure of Unlimited Blade Works.

But there are risks with using a projection like that. The instant I am through with it I will become a vegetable. There are things that the human mind is unable to comprehend or is not meant to comprehend and this is one of them.

The vampire draws closer as another Broken Phantasm fails to faze him.

Calming my nerves and readying my body I shoot the rest of my wings in an attempt to stall enough time for this projection.

An explosion near the level of a detonation of a missile rocks the street and the once flat street the city prided itself in maintaining is no longer recognizable, but that is not my concern. My only concern right now is…

"Trace-On"

The final trace and final gamble.

If this fails to kill the vampire… No it will not fail at all.

I quickly split the projection process into eight parts and…

-Judging the concept of creation,

The blade was made for one purpose, killing. Like Kanshou and Bakuya there is no thirst for glory or curse. It was made for this reason and this reason only.

-hypothesizing the basic structure,

It is only a twenty centimeters in length consisting of a ten centimeter blade and ten centimeter metal bar as a hilt.

-duplicating the composition material,

It's made of Japanese steel, antique but nothing compared to the materials that make a Noble Phantasm.

-imitating the skill of its making,

The blade was tempered for weeks, just tempered and tempered by a masterful craftsman therefore even if it is beat up the edge is sharp still and the blade is sturdy.

-sympathizing with the experience of growth,

Yes, it's a beautiful piece with a proper history.

-reproducing the accumulated years,

Killing those that are not human, meeting with death, and inheritance to the next killer until it came into the hands of the wielder that tried to kill him. The circuits in my eye will start to mutate, soon I will be able to comprehend what I should not, soon I will see a moonlit world; soon I will forget everything again.

-excelling every manufacturing process,

I'm scared, not of death, but of losing my mind before I die. I might forget my sanity and my promise to protect Sakura, but if I do not-

Now, I bind the illusion and make it into a sword.

I…

Interlude Out

* * *

><p>A loud thud and the vampire is kicked away from Matou by Emiya with two protruding mountains of swords on his back. They must hurt terribly and projection is also a magecraft that can destroy a mind.<br>Quickly he stabs Matou with a dagger that nullifies all contracts and then I notice that Matou was not the one that healed me. It was that nun who had warned me. I guess I am grateful to that nun even though her temperament is much like Tohsaka's. Why can't all women be like Medusa? And surprisingly with that thought we are approached by a blindfolded Medusa.

"Sakura, Issei are you okay?" she asks quite full of concern.

Bang.

The singing of steel against claw pierces through the noise created by the wind.

"Senp…" Matou has definitely been weakened with her internal fight against Angra Mainyu.

Medusa grabs hold of her falling body.

"She'll be fine; it'll only be a few seconds before her connection to the Grail will restore her vitality." I reassure Medusa.

"How do you know that?" She seems half-angry, half-intrigued.

"I just do." I answer rather cryptically.

Bang.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Boom.

The earth shakes as bombs seem to detonate.

"What is he doing?" Medusa looks puzzled.

"Broken Phantasm, it won't do any good though." Again I answer knowing the answer without ever having seen or learnt about any of this before.

I think it is because of my confidence in my answers that Medusa does not understand.

The all-too-familiar sound of shattered phantasies comes from the combatants.

Matou starts to stir and Medusa fusses over her for a while but Matou wards Medusa away then after I travel through a few streams I find the answer within Matou however before I can say anything she turns her attention towards me.

"I just realized what your eyes can really do."

Her eyes are full of awe and a bit frightened.

I start to say something but…

Emiya is about to die.

Emiya is about to die and I am the only one that can stop him.

So I wipe the blood off my eyes.

But before I dash off to save Emiya I turn to Sakura and tell her how she can kill this child of the moon.

* * *

><p>His is a great strategy, I'll give him that, but the problem with great strategies is that usually do not get many allies killed, however since this strategy will end with mutual destruction so I can no longer call this a great strategy, only a suicide mission.<p>

The goal of this projection is not the weapon, but rather the ability of the previous wielder.

Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.

The moment that Emiya finishes projecting that dagger is the moment he dies. Emiya Shirou cannot project the sight of another human and even if he could; his brain cannot handle that sight. I have looked through the streams and I know that no human can handle those, not long term anyway, just like it is also impossible for me to handle my eyes which is why that dragon created a bounded field to protect my brain. The bounded field is always present because my od maintains it which is very surprising because I would not think that my od alone would be able to maintain such a complex and through field. But pondering about that doesn't matter now, the boundary field deactivates when my own blood touches the surface of my eyes to reveal my mystic eyes and when the blood is removed the boundary field reactivates. If only one eye has blood on it then only that eye's bounded field is removed however if the mystic eyes are used in that situation there is twice the strain to my brain since only a limited amount of information can be collected with one eye.

I slide though the puddles in the pouring rain; my body is hot and has just recovered from the injuries so it hurts. Every step is like torture however I only need to be within eyeshot of the activation before…

Emiya's face changes from resolute to surprise because of that the vampire rushes in but is held back because the tar has of the road has melted.

"Emiya, never project that again. No matter what situation, that projection would have failed." It sounds as if I am scolding a child.

"I've been told that, however if we are to survive," He's just trying to make up excuses.

"If we are to survive, we have everything we need, don't do something this reckless again. Just think what would happen to Matou if you died. You once told me that the things you will find by choosing this path are not brilliant, but I beg to differ, because even if you will definitely lose more than you gain… you don't have to willingly give everything up."

My words slap him and leave a stinging mark in his soul but when he is about to retort the vampire breaks out of the tar trap I set up for him.

Quickly I wipe my blood onto my eyelids.

Different streams rush through my eyes and into my brain.

*Crackle*

My brain creaks and it breaks.

The information is too much to handle.

*Crackle*

But I persist no matter what. I cannot die from just this. Right, I have found the path I will travel. It's a long path that leads to an end that I haven't decided on. But I have decided to travel this path because I love Medusa; therefore I cannot die here. Even if that same cold Death is rushing at me again…

So therefore I raise my hands as if greeting the reaper.

-The trigger makes my body feels as if it split in half.

Fire runs through my singular magic circuit until it finally spills from my hands in a fire ball.

"AS IF A FIREBALL COULD STOP ME!" Death bats the ball away coming closer as Emiya unwillingly retreats.

Row through the stream.

A claw comes straight for my chest once again.

A gale just as strong as this typhoon succeeds in carrying me away and also pushing him back.

But at that moment I drop to the ground because I realize that I am already out of prana. The magic  
>circuit slowly drains out as my body tries desperately to collect more od from the Root. Even if my spells, without using incantations, only consisted of ten percent of od, I have run dry after two of them.<p>

"FIRE AND WIND THEN… YOU DO NOT SEEM TO BE A MAGUS THOUGH." He's getting bored, bored enough to start analyzing the situation.

His wrong, my element isn't fire, neither is it wind, nor water, nor earth, not even ether. It's all of the elements. I'm a... I row through the stream searching… average one. It is only because of my eyes that I am an average one, and that I can perform these miracles.

Death rushes at me again but I clumsily avoid the blow. He's toying with me, because I know that blow  
>should have swiped off my head.<p>

I don't have any prana which means I cannot win. I can't form a contract with anything right now…

-Form a contract.

Blood. A contract is made with using blood.

I quickly row through…

*Crackle*

My whole world shakes as my brain starts to overheat because of my eyes, but I begin to formulate the theory.

*Crackle*

I'll place my life on that theory.

"Trace-on"

I know this is Emiya's incantation but it is good enough since I don't have time to make up my own and I only need a knife, even if it's for a second.

My circuit tries to suck all the remaining od from my body. I only need a bit, only six units of od.

And then in my hand is a rudimentary knife that the world is destroying.

One quick slit vertically on both arms, and blood begins to spill onto the shattering knife.

The vampire laughs at my feeble attempt at something, but he really shouldn't laugh.

I have a low amount of od, the number of magic circuits I have is pitiful, and the quality of those magic circuits is horrendous; however, if I use blood as collateral then I should be able to…

Death reaches for my heart; however, his arm is completely frozen solid, and with that I quickly reinforce my fist and strike his face, of course that would never affect a being like him so I immobilize him by turning the earth into quicksand.

Spells require an incantation and prana; however I can bypass those requirements. An incantation is only required when changing the external world, I am merely pushing prana into myself and therefore aligning it my element which is whatever I choose it to be. As for the prana, even if I do not have any od left, blood works as a cluster of prana which is the reason why it can be used to make contracts just like other bodily liquids. Therefore I am not using any od at all, these spells are completely mana based and therefore I can keep up with at least…

Until I lose enough blood.

My vision is blurry; I can't see much anymore however since I am not sliced up, the vampire has not reached me.

Why?

He broke through my prison of earth so easily.

My cage of ice was also shattered.

So why aren't I dead?

A familiar set of eyes comes into view.

Ahhh, even if a situation like this they are so beautiful; filled with worry and angst.

She must have kicked him away again.

What is her name again?

I'm losing consciousness again and I can't even remember the name of the person I love. I'm pathetic, pathetic enough to simply fade into naught.

* * *

><p>A few months ago I was drowning in despair. I did not know where I wanted to go or where I wanted to be. Today the only thing that has changed is that I am no longer drowning in the endless sea known as despair. That's because of you. You were a comet to me; an ethereal blazing star that represented something that I could never be. From the first moment that I met you, you were definitely someone precious to me. I'm just glad the feeling was mutual. But I'm not that dragon; I can't make a bounded field to keep all the youkai away. So what do I do?<p>

*Crackle*

-Memories.

pegasus

-You.

age of gods

-Me.

strong

-Sisters.

dragon

-Monster.

bellerophon

-Memories.

*Crackle*

That's the answer isn't it? The end of the route for me is the path itself. I have chosen the path that I will walk and that is the end. Simply being together is the end that I want. The path of being together is also the end known as being together. That seems like an easy answer, but it's the truth. I love you because I enjoy being with you; therefore, even if it is selfish, to keep that wish alive…

I understand.

I understand like how my eyes understand magecraft.

It's simple, both answers.

And right now as I am again being blinded by your light again I can prove it.

This is the end.

* * *

><p>*Crackle*<p>

The only thing I can see is white light and the grinding of my brain being overloaded with information which makes thinking hurt.

I tell it shut up and row further to find the information I need.

*Crackle*

Even if my consciousness is breaking apart I know the scope of my power.

Complete through analysis of any thaumaturgy process and the comprehension of the application, acceptance, examination, and issuance process thereby actualizing any miracle recorded within the Great Spiral, bounded by an innate field that severs the flow of prana in anything being activated that is within my sight. Bounded field is only usable when my blood does not touch my eyes. Reading od levels in body and magic circuit; one bearing only ten units of prana maximum. Failure to comprehend; od levels are unusually low due to conversion into prana. Yet, any spell less than a Greater Ritual will be unable to even touch the Demon Lord. Failure to implement since without any od left a Greater Ritual will take more blood than the body has. So all I can rely on are the tools of my comrades and these eyes that tell me how to perform miracles, yet these are the eyes that will destroy my brain in ten minutes because I have used them for too long. So with great haste I analyze the situation.

*Crackle*

You're summoning a Pegasus then using Bellerophon to make it equivalent to a dragon. You believe from your heart that the only thing that can kill this enemy is a something with the power of a dragon. Then the answer is simple, all I have to do is change your summoning circle into one that summons a dragon.

*Crackle*

My mind is breaking down.

I need to put the bounded field back up before I completely fade into naught.

My heart's about to explode from the pain, fatigue, and emptiness but that won't happen because I've seen the end I've been searching for so long that I cannot let it end.

*Crackle*

Something breaks.

Further

Something that can never be retrieved.

Further

But even if I understand "how" to summon a dragon I do not know what dragon to summon. To summon a phantasmal race one must know its sign. Your Pegasus' sign is that of an eye, therefore I can summon that, but I need to summon a dragon.

Where?

Where?

*Crackle*

Find it inside of yourself.

* * *

><p>"It's not much, but this is my dowry." The witch that stole the heart of the person who was like my brother shows the price she will pay him.<p>

"Umm, these days we don't really have dowries." My real brother looks genuinely surprised.

"I know but I just want the family to know I am not easy, and that I have a means to support myself."

In her delicate hands is a golden fleece just like the one of legend. There is only place where it seems like a brand or stamp has been made. It is emblazoned with two wings, one on either side, and a gaping maw that leads to naught.

"This is called the Argon Coin; I hope you find it useful."

Turn this memory into a reality.

* * *

><p>*Crackle*<p>

It breaks.

However, now I know that by throwing that fleece onto the ground one can summon a dragon.

I do not have the fleece itself therefore I will settle with transforming your summoning circle into one that summons of the original Colchios dragon.

*Crackle*

Slowly your blinding light fades and the blood shifts to a different type of pattern.

Any type of blood is fine for summoning it's the knowledge of the ritual that matters.

Slowly you turn, shocked at a me trying my best to stand back up.

*Crackle*

My body is getting heavier.

You reach your arm out, no longer worrying about the summoning circle, trying to catch me as I fall.

But I catch myself and while doing so take the bridle of chivalry out of your hands.

I'm the one who needs this, not you; after all you cannot ride a dragon even if your class is "Rider." I can ride a dragon because the rules that bind Servants do not apply for me.

The ritual is complete.

Fire runs through both my mind and the world in front of my eyes.

*Crackle*

My brain screams for me to put the bounded field up, but I can't, not yet anyway. Not until I tame this dragon.

It's truly something that is larger than life. The moment it erupted from the circle it seemed that even the rain turned into flames. The amount of prana this beast is radiating is unquantifiable and this Colchios dragon is one of the weakest dragons of the Divine Spirit class, but even the weakest of dragons is majestic at three stories tall. Its murky scales, small eyes, and leathery wings reinforce the storybooks.

This is the most ancient of the Phantasmal Races.

It is already a miracle that I am able to witness this, a beast that knocks on the door of Magic.

Right now it is quite placid, uncertain how and why it was summoned into this world but soon that uncertainty will wear off and the dragon will go on a rampage which is why…

The Demon Lord leaps trying to slash off the dragon's head.

It's scared.

It's scared at what this beast can do. Even if True Ancestors are one of the oldest races in the world and are connected with Gaia herself… that connection is not exclusive. Dragons are a phantasmal race that also acts as terminals for the world; however, since they are also phantasmal beasts they also gain mystery with age.

The dragon of Cochios lets out a roar that pierces the soul and shatters the glass of all nearby buildings. Even the ground cracks at the pressure of that roar; even the all-mighty Demon Lord is pushed back by a mere roar.

Using this moment as an opportunity I crawl from its tail onto its back apply the bridle.

"ISSEI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" You screech at me.

I do not answer you as I command the dragon into the air.

The Demon Lord activates his mystic eyes for the first time in a hopeless attempt to stop us. Mystic eyes are unable to stop a dragon that is older than the Age of Gods; the Demon Lord must have been too drunk on blood to remember that.

*Crackle*

Taming this beast has been hard and I have never actually "ridden" an animal before in my life, but  
>Bellerophon is helping me control the beast.<p>

*Crackle*

Now it's time for my final spell.

I row the stream, further than I have ever travelled before. The current gets stronger as stronger as I approach the spiral, but I find what I need just below how to apply a reanimation curse.

Activation of the Bride of Chivalry.

Noble Phantasms are crystallizations of mysteries and are the ultimate embodiment of that Hero. In this case it is your ultimate weapon. Therefore it is impossible for me to call forth its complete power.

*Crackle*

Allowing for the degradation of one rank.

A Noble Phantasm ranked A+ is reduced to B+.

Re-calculating.

It should still penetrate the divine shield that your Pegasus was unable to breach. Your Pegasus's attack was too low even when augmented by an A+ Noble Phantasm. The power only reached the level of a dragon. However a dragon when augmented with a B+ Noble Phantasm makes all calculations lead to victory.

*Crackle*

Reach it.

My brain hurts so much that I can barely see but if I close my eyes they will never open again.

In a surge of fire that is dulled by the pain in my brain I understand the basic concepts.

-The amount of prana needed to activate the mystery.

-The name that causes the miracle to affect the external world.

-The conversion from prana to blood needed to satisfy the ritual.

*Crackle*

"Trace-on"

My consciousness dims even further as I try for one final projection, but since even thinking hurts the end result is so clumsy that it breaks almost the second I bring it into this world. Yet in that second I am able to gash my entire right arm.

*Crackle*

It hurts.

Not my arm but my head. The migraine I have is so overwhelming I do not even feel the knife shattering after it breaks my skin.

Will I be able to bear the pain?

*Crackle*

Or will I lose my sanity first?

There is no time other than now when all the cards are in place and with a slight nudge I let the dragon fall like a meteor.

Accelerating.

Accelerating until it reaches a speed that should not exist.

*Crackle*

My blood flows into the air turning into a sacrifice for the words:

"BELLERO-"

Cursing himself the Demon Lord propels himself into the air, but he does not move from the spot.

He cannot.

From the air it looks like a pit of darkness, but it is a pit of shadow.

The tar and then the quicksand were tests to see if the Demon Lord could be bound even for a second.  
>The quicksand was the signal and this is the result.<p>

"Sakura? Didn't I tell you…?" The Faker is worried and bewildered.

He shouldn't be though. The vessel for the Holy Grail not using all the evils in the world, only the sorcery trait she was born with.

Imaginary Numbers.

Something that does not affect the world we can see, but destroys the worlds only I can see.

The elementals around the crater are continuously being absorbed and destroyed and since the Demon  
>Lord is known as a "Manifested Elemental" it is also trapped by the pit. Trapped, but not sinking, this elemental is not completely comprised of ether unlike those that cannot be seen, so it will not die by her hand. It'll die by mine.<p>

Tendrils of shadow enwrap the insane Demon Lord's arms pinning them where they are. He's a stationary target for the meteor whose light has become so large that you have to retreat.

*Crackle*

*Crackle*

Snap

Something inside me snaps, something important, something so important that I feel empty, but I cannot remember it because it faded into naught.

What did I lose?

What did I lose in exchange?

The Demon Lord roars a lamentation that I finally understand. It wanted to kill the White Princess so that he could see the White Princess, he loves her, but since he is being that never learnt what love was this is the only way he has of releasing and showing that emotion. My brain is burning too much for me to feel any sort of sympathy for the Demon Lord and my body is too busy readying itself for the miracle that is about to cost me my mind.

To ward off my fear and my oncoming insanity, I roar in turn. I roar the words that actualize this miracle.

"PHON!"

A blinding white light envelopes both the dragon and me.

My brain no longer crackles.

The last thing I see is the Demon Lord's face filled with fear, with eyes crying blood.

Yet, the last thing I think of is you, the person whose name and now face I forgot.

But, I still remember because I promised; I promise that no matter what I would remember those jewel-like eyes, even when I…

A blinding light that covers the world and red, streams of red, red everywhere so I…

I quickly seize and imprint three important memories but before there is time to breathe a sigh of relief  
>I…<p>

-fade into naught.

* * *

><p>An orange haired boy approaches the Demon Lord leaving the girl and the woman in black being tended to by the nun. On the ground lying next to the Demon Lord is a boy, his eyes closed almost in a peaceful sense. The once all mighty Demon Lord just lies there split in half. It is breathing erratically and raggedly. Its right arm can no longer move but the left seems to be reaching towards to sky for something, just like the orange haired boy did so long ago. The orange haired boy walks up to the body and looks into the lonely Demon Lords eyes once full of insanity, but now since even that façade has been eradicated they are now just empty.<p>

The Demon Lord tries to move its mouth, but only blood comes out. He will regenerate soon but for now it flows out like a small river until finally in a raspy quiet voice it finally tries to speak.

"Trace-on," the boy's incantation is mindlessly recited with no emotion.

"A…r…c…" the only sounds that come out of the Demon Lord's.

And then in one clean motion its head is looped off like all the heads that have being blessed or cursed to have been touched by Harpe, the sickle which refracts longevity.

The Phantasm shatters and the boy turns away from the lonely Demon Lord picking up the sleeping boy and then re-joins those who follow him on his path.

The darkness which could not be seen due to the typhoon was ripped open due to the blinding white light and is now being invaded by the golden morning sun and slowly that overwhelming darkness fades into light.

* * *

><p><span>Interlude<span>

Examining this invading sun on top of the Center building is a blindfolded man sitting on the edge of the building.

"Do you think that we should have imposed?"

The woman's red eyes close for an instant then open back up. The golden witch keeps her countenance and the answers back to the man.

"No, I never thought we needed to; after all he was the weakest."

The blindfolded man nods accepting her words but then replies: "Was he someone you knew?"

The golden witch makes a face of disgust: "I knew him, but I was not fond of him. I think the reason I disliked Roa so much is because he reminded me of this man in some way."

"Well then," the blindfolded man gets up and starts for the stairwell, "Let's head back and pay Kokutou-kun for the information and location shall we? I don't want his wife as an enemy after all."

The golden witch laughs: "You're worried about her? What are you going to tell your little sister when we get back to the mansion?"

The blindfolded man takes the golden witch by the hand and with a mischievous smile: "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, my dear White Princess."

The door that leads to this steel garden in the sky is quietly closed and, because of the rumble of the reconstruction teams fretting about the damage this "typhoon" has caused, no one pays any attention to the White Princess and her knight as they stroll away from this town of winter snow.

Interlude Out

From naught

-Suddenly I awaken,

quietly closed and, because of the rumble of the reconstruction teams fretting about the damage this "typhoon" has caused, no one pays any attention to the White Princess and her knight as they stroll away from this town of winter snow.

Interlude Out

* * *

><p>From naught<p>

-Suddenly I awaken,


	9. into Author

into Author

This is the end of Fate/ into Naught. It's been a good couple of weeks so what I really want to do with this author's note/comments section is to explain my plans which have been disrupted with the new Fate/ Extra CCC that recently has been announced. I had only planned to work until  
>Fate Extra and I will do exactly that. As for my series into Fate/ Extra that will begin a month or two for now since I am waiting for the English Fate/ Extra so I can hoard some quotes. However I will still be writing these two months on some short one-shots. After all I believe I need to practice and I need to develop my romance writing skills. Finally, if you liked this series of stories, hated them, found something weird or something wrong, comment on it in the reviews because the only way a person who writes stories gets better is if they are told off. So watch out for some new fics that are going to come out. I want to do a Starry Sky oneshot and maybe a Zouken-centric one. Thanks for reading and I'm glad that I beat the anime in finishing.

into Archer

I had writing as Gilgamesh. It makes me feel so… corrupted or greedy or something like that. Gilgamesh's story is finding "something" that takes me out of his "everything." And that happens to be a friend. The gender pronoun errors for Enkidu are intended, supposed to represent his indecision whether to treat Enkidu as a mate or a mate. Now I'm sure many are -.- at the thought of Enkidu as a woman. Well I kinda always thought of her as girl since looking at Fate/Strange Fake where his a trap and a Lancer. Then I thought of how Saber would be a dude is she died properly and became a proper Heroic Spirit. So I put two and two together. I actually haven't read Fate/Strange Fake so my version of Enkidu is a Faker simply because I believe that is the only person other than Lancelot who can stand up to Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon. She's a Lancer in the same way that EMIYA is an Archer – breaking phantasms. Now I gave her Shirou's type of projection even though she definitely does not have UBW in her mind. Probably I made because I think her origin is sword as well. But rather than UBW she has been gifted that insane structural grasp magecraft by the gods that made her to be equal of Gilgamesh. Again like I say in story she can only record and project one weapon at a time unlike Shirou who can roll out multiple "bullets." However she has wayyyyy more magic circuits and structurally grasping something takes less than a second. As for the incantations being exactly the same even if two magi should never have the same incantations that was really because I was lazy and I don't make good incantations. It's cooler this way as well. For all those who noticed yes I copied the fight from the UBW route in the beginning, it's a nice beginning. Also sorry for making Gilgi more human if possible I just really hate his personality portrayed by that Gilgamesh picturebook even though that made me laugh so hard. Gilgi's story is about a man who had everything but was so empty, and there appeared something that filled a bit of his life.

into Lancer

Your typical love story for confirmation; yes the beginning is the ending cos I thought it'd be cooler that way. This took the longest to research; I had to actually read the whole entire epic to write this. The epic is really O_O unbelievable at times and at other times it's kinda stupid. It was a fun read though; I was playing Fate/Extra while reading it. Anyway Grainne is supposed to be a spoiled princess and Diarmuid is supposed to be that self-effacing knight. I dunno this chapter is very self-explanatory the only confusing thing may be about the "sun-god," no that's not Lugh. It's just Grainne showing the world what she can actually do. Yea I didn't want Grainne to be absolutely bad at everything other than being a pretty face. I mean even if the author of that epic seems to really, really hate her, I don't. She cannot see the lines of death, she's just really, really, really, strong, probably stronger than Diarmuid. It's just that her father told her to be a pretty face all day and stuff like that suppressing her stronger-willed side. Grainne looks like Sola from Fate/Zero and Finn looks like Kayeth simply because it just makes making these characters so much easier and I can also say that it's Diarmuid's "fate" to be summoned by those two. The theme I guess is losing everything to obtain one thing and is that worth it? Of course I have no idea if it is, it's a case by case basis. Diarmuid at first thought that it wasn't worth it. I mean he had a really, really comfortable life. But at the end he didn't mind it because that one thing turned into his everything without him realizing. And yes even if won't admit it at the end Diarmuid does love Grainne, I mean they do get married. There is a third character in some of the scenes I touched on that kinda does all the fishing are caretaking of Grainne why Diarmuid is out killing, but I didn't include him, because I wanted a private hell for Diarmuid. Also I'm assuming Diarmuid can control prana and his magic circuits simply because he was raised by a god. I guess that Diarmuid that type of protagonist who has a girl just dropped on him and he thinks of her as a bother. Yea, that's a really common protagonist archetype these days.

into Berserker

From the start I want to say that the narrator is the Lady of Shallot. She's just projecting herself as Lancelot because she can't bear to be herself listening to him. Therefore she's an unreliable narrator, such as the glass shattering scene, that was both Lancelot shattering the wind and Sha shattering that mirror that lets her see the outside. So I guess I'll make the sparknotes version of this story here. There was a party in Camelot, Sha wanted to get to Lance better and then have a convo, kinda one sided though. She finds out he likes someone, obviously Guinevere to everyone except her. She casts a curse on herself to try to see if she truly loved her and his actions truly hurt her and pfft she drops half dead. Merlin and the Lord of Shallot find her and Merlin cures her by fiddling around with her memories. Cos you see if the memories of her ever feeling heartbroken are gone then that curse is nullified because it's an always acting curse. But just doesn't remember the incident, and like in Kara memories are forever, cos this is the Type-moon universe no matter how many liberties I take and historical characters I make that may or may not be OC's. So she's locked in that tower and one day she see's Lance, who was told  
>not to go near her tower, go near her tower and the memories start to seep. She calls out to him and she remembers everything and dies while on that boat. The idea behind this was what I believe is the cruelest thing in the world. The easiest example is when a guy or girl tells the guy or girl who likes the first guy or girl who they like, why and everything like that. So why did Sha sit through that? To be a good friend seriously everyone sits through stuff like that down. And it's the cruelest thing because the first person believes he or she is sharing happiness but instead their being cruel. And also Lancelot doesn't remember her or care about her so he just rode through that place even if he was told not too kinda just takes the cake. Still Lance isn't a bad guy; Sha's just a tragic girl. So yea it's also about the consequences of retrieving something that was lost in the nothingness, the naught. So 0+1=1 but is that one good? It's not always good. Sha would have had a life if she didn't remember, but was she happy at the end of her short life? Even I don't know that. In my story I guess she's satisfied but not happy. Many concepts and lines are from Oblivion Recorder, the sixth Kara movie. I'm guessing that Merlin taught all the knights basic stuff about prana, Lancelot just turned that into Knight of Honor.<p>

into Assassin

This release is serves as a mirror for into Berserker. The main idea behind this was since Berserker was about "gaining something from one's own naught" this would be about "losing everything into one's naught." Into Berserker is a tragedy however the Lady of Shallot gains her memories. Hassan here loses himself. I guess this a true prequel to my into True Assassin from into Darkness, since that boy in this story is Hassan al Mut. That's noted at the very end. I started this very ambitious because the Assassin in Zero has multiple personalities I decided they each needed a name and that I would write in a different style and voice for them. So I named them in the same way Mirror Moon did Shiki and SHIKI. To tell the truth all the letter combinations were random. Again a lot of references, the masks while Hassan is in his soul pays homage to the red ribbon scene in Bleach. I'm not a fan of Bleach, but I did take that scene because what can I say it sets the standard and solves a problem well. The counter-guardian's sword is not a Noble Phantasm however the power and everything about it was taken using Invisible Air as a model. A counter guardian having a trillion units of prana is cannon for I don't have to justify that. This chapter is two generations of Hassan's before the one with Delusional Heartbeat. So it's this Hassan - one that gets killed by Hassan al Mut - True Assassin. And finally which is probably the largest debate is how is THIS GUY A BRIDGE TO AKASHA. I am not saying everyone in the Nasuverse that has multiple personalities is a path the Akasha, but you have to realize the similarities of what the Ryougi family are trying to do and a man with a thousand personalities. The Ryougi family want a vessel that is empty therefore can be filled with infinite personalities. This Hassan is a person that has reached that without having to modify his body. Seriously a thousand personalities is not normal even for someone who has this problem. Therefore I came up with the splitting personalities which goes back to the Yin-Yang idea of "covering all attributes." Either way Akasha gets killed and the reason why Akasha is never shown in Fate/Zero is because, at least according to me, is because Hassan's soul is in the throne of heroes that one that was summoned is just a clone, it doesn't have his soul.

into Caster

I actually had a friend work on this one with me. The idea started as the wife of Gilles who has been spurned just watching her husband's demise. I really couldn't do that, because first after I did some research on the man, I discovered it would not be set in Paris. LAME. However personally I believe this version is much better than whatever I could have hoped for. The style it is written is probably unfamiliar since I made it up. It starts with a question and the next paragraph answers that question and poses another one and on it goes. Each paragraph is chronological but the flow is determined by the questions. Therefore I am able to have two stories running parallel. The childhood is not a memory or a flashback. My protagonist is Catherine de Thouars. Not much is known about her and her activities so that made her an ideal protagonist. I found a painting of her and she's not that much of a looker so I decided to stay with history. However this is a work of fiction after all. If I had to place her in the Nasuverse power rankings I would place her about the same as one of Avengers dogs. She'd probably mutually destroy one. I wanted to make her a strong female protagonist since we still don't have that many of those these days. She only is able to kill nine people because they were surprised at her and she killed each one in only one attack. Finally notice how all those arteries were part of Nine Lives, just thought it would be a cool Easter egg. This is a mirror to into Lancer into which "everything went to something," in this "something went to everything." If you are interested, Catherine did survive and got married again. Her husband has a cameo in this story as well. The Kara reference was completely justified.

into Rider

This went completely differently. I wanted to have my narrator as Waver travelling the world giving talks about Alexander. It would have been set in a hut in Iceland, yet Waver can speak Icelanish or whatever that language is called. He had saved the village from being attacked by familiars in rival clan because this clan's shaman recently died. So they want Waver to stay and protect them, but they don't let him know that and try with sneaky ways to try to get him to stay while he tells the clan's children the story of Alexander. I totally forgot that plotline when I started writing. Summer does that to people. So I went with a backwards approach. As I to put it, into Rider goes from Sadness to Happiness. The priest with that one eye was a shout-out and a spoiler alert I guess. I guess that prediction could have been written better as well. Still I wanted one of these stories to be shorter than twenty pages. And again it is a mirror to into Archer where Gilgy "gains something," while Alexander "loses something." And that finishes up Fate/ into Darkness.

into Another

I would call this my masterpiece, even if it's not that great and very long winded and truly is just one gigantic battle sequence. The reason I like this the most is that it is this idea that got me into writing. Yes I always wondered who Rider would end up with after I finished HF and no I really didn't want to believe she ended up with Shirou and yes I believed she would end up with Issei, cos let's face it, they both has glasses. Anyway I was not sure about putting Caren it because I was almost certain that an old man is the supervisor after Kotomine but I couldn't help it. Caren's too fun of a character. Props to my friend Mr. Savier for helping pick out the name for the True Ancestor, Abidel, an angel known as the Servant of God. As for my Arcuied, Shiki ending thing, I thought it was fun. The style is similar to into Lancer's. But maybe I'll have one more story to wrap everything up with Rider and Issei. I know I copied a lot of lines from Fate, but I love how Nasu writes Shirou's break down scenes they really make HF the most epic and believable scenario. As for all the interludes I put in, I originally planned to tell this story by Shirou but I decided to use Issei because Issei is a narrator that I have more control over. If I used Shirou I would have to keep to Nasu's style and let's face it, some of Shirou's thoughts are really that well thought out (People die when their killed). I apologize for the tacky title most of all. The idea of my Shirou comes from Battle Moon Wars when he denies Unlimited Blade Works for Nine Lives or something like that. I thought Shirou should've got an awesomer attack than Nine Lives in that game. That love-love-projection whatever did not cut it for me. So when I thought about it if Sakura is giving him prana like almost every night, he should be able to project every sword in UBW also in "Nine Bullet Revolver"  
>and "Thus I pray Unlimited Blade Works" it says that he can project the strength of the original wielder as well so that was my hypothesis, what if he projected every sword and every heroes strength from UBW surely then he would be almost equal in power to a Counter-Guardian since he does have power of a lot of Heroic Spirits. The idea that the projected swords would take the concept of wings is out of practicality. Archer's trump card really is his Broken Phantasms. The wings make a convenient quiver for him to draw upon. Finally I'd like the say the first story may be confusing but type in "odin one eye" in google or whatever and you'll get it.<p> 


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